


MCRT - Upsidedown

by Ytteb



Series: MCRT Upside Down [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: A look at how the Major Case Response Team could have come into being - with the emphasis on 'could'.I'm not sure what genre this is going to be so I haven't put any additional tags to the story - I may add some later.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is AU and messes considerably with both canon and time line … but I hope the characters are still recognisable.

 “Jethro,” said Tom Morrow to the man who sat opposite him in the Director’s office.  “How you settled back in?”

“Fine,” said Gibbs.  He didn’t think that Morrow was really interested in his agent’s feelings about returning to his home after many months in Europe.  In fact, Gibbs had been surprised to discover how much he’d missed his house with all its locked up memories and he found himself hoping that his next posting would be in DC.

Morrow’s lips twitched with amusement although he was fair-minded enough to know that he would have been uncomfortable had Gibbs favoured him with a detailed account of his emotions during his recent posting.

“You did good work in Europe.  You and Shepard,” praised the Director.

Gibbs contented himself with a nod.

“But SecNav is uncomfortable with that type of mission,” continued the Director.  “He would prefer that sort of work to be carried out by other agencies.”

Gibbs shrugged and took a sip of coffee.

“And, in any case,” said Morrow, “there’s a limit to how long we can expect agents to work under the pressure you and Jenny have had.  It was time for you both to come back.”

“Back?” queried Gibbs.

“In a manner of speaking.  Shepard is being posted to NCIS in Bahrain.  She’ll focus particularly on relations with our Israeli friends.  It’s a good move for her.  I wouldn’t be surprised to see her as Director one day.”  He paused and looked closely at Gibbs; there had been rumours about how just how closely he and Jenny had worked and he wondered if there was any regret about their working partnership being broken.

“She’s ambitious,” said Gibbs neutrally.

Morrow realised that was all he was going to get so carried on.  “SecNav has authorised the setting up of a new team in Washington.  Based at the Navy Yard.  A Major Case Response Team.”

“What will it do?”

“Take the lead on Major Cases,” said Tom with a twinkle.

Respect for his Boss prevented Gibbs from saying, “Duh!” but his expression betrayed him nonetheless.

“Many agencies and police departments have them,” relented Morrow, “They take responsibility for particular types of case.  Murder, large thefts, espionage, threats to national security.  You know the sort of thing.  It seems to work well.  Highly trained and highly focussed agents given the best facilities and support.  I want you for the team, Jethro.  Is it something you’d be interested in?”

“Sure,” said Gibbs.  “Who else is on the team?”

Morrow looked at his watch and grimaced.  “Got another meeting to go to.  Come back tomorrow at 08.00.  I’ll introduce you to the other people I have in mind.”  He stood to indicate the interview was over.  He stretched out his hand, “Good to have you back in DC, Agent Gibbs.”

“Thank you, Sir,” said Gibbs equally formally as he shook the Director’s hand.

“Meet downstairs,” ordered the Director, “Mitcheson’s old area.  It’s where I propose to put the new team.  I’ll take you all for coffee.”

The promise of coffee reduced Gibbs’ customary grim look and he nodded appreciatively.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs was cheerful as he walked into Chris Mitcheson’s old office space the next day.  He had enjoyed his work in Europe but was looking forward to this new challenge.  His happiness dwindled a little when he saw the other people waiting.

A fresh-faced tall, blond man jumped to his feet as he saw Gibbs approach.  Gibbs noticed that he was older than he first appeared and was probably in his late twenties.

“Morning, Sir,” he said.

“Don’t call me ‘Sir’,” said Gibbs automatically, “I work for a living.”

“Oh,” came the reply, “I didn’t know.  I didn’t want to imply that you don’t … don’t work for a living, I mean.”

“Keep it down,” moaned the other person waiting.

Gibbs swivelled his eyes towards the speaker.  Unlike fresh-faced Blond man who was dressed smartly and tidily this man was dishevelled, his hair was a mess and he needed a shave.  He was also far from being fresh-faced as he was pale with dark shadows under his eyes as Gibbs saw as he momentarily lifted his face from his hands and gave him a feeble wave,

“Hi!” he said before putting his face back in his hands and groaning.

All Gibbs’ feelings of propriety were offended and he was about to deliver a cutting rebuke when the Director came down the stairs.

“Good,” he said, “I’m glad you’re all here.  Follow me, please.  I’ve arranged for refreshments to be served in Conference Room 1.”

Blond man almost stood to attention at Morrow’s words and hurried to obey.  Gibbs made to follow but then noticed that Dishevelled man appeared to be taking a nap, “Hey!” he thundered, “Director gave us an order!”

“What?” came the bleary reply as bloodshot eyes were lifted up once more.  He gazed around dazedly and then spotted Morrow and Blond man striding away from them.  “Oh,” he acknowledged, “Oh, OK.”  He got to his feet and began to walk wearily after them.  Gibbs restrained himself from ordering him to pick his feet up and move but did, rather pointedly, walk swiftly and straight-backed ahead of him.

“Gentlemen,” said Morrow when they reached the conference room.  “Help yourselves to drinks and pastries.”

Blond man made himself a peppermint tea, selected a bran muffin and asked the Director what he wanted.  Gibbs took two cups of black coffee and watched with disapproval as Dishevelled man took a coffee and added cream and four sugars.

When everyone was settled, Morrow looked around and began,

“As you know, SecNav has decided to set up a Major Case Response Team.  You have each indicated that you would be willing to be its first members.  I consider that each of you would bring a useful skillset to the new team.  One of you has seen service in the Marine Corps as well as some years’ service with NCIS,” he paused.  Blond guy’s eyes moved to Gibbs’ haircut as he worked out who was the former Marine.  Dishevelled guy’s whole attention seemed to be concentrated on stirring his coffee.

“One of you has had a … varied career in a number of police departments as well as having worked for this Agency for four years.  And then there’s Stanley our new recruit who comes to us having spent some time as a Senator’s aide.  I think that will give us a good range of experience,” continued the Director.

Gibbs took a thoughtful gulp of his coffee as he considered that perhaps he should have pegged Dishevelled guy as a politician.  He’d have to buck up his ideas if he wanted to be a NCIS agent; coming in to work having been partying all night was not a good start.

“Agent Gibbs,” said Morrow, “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Gibbs turned a wounded look on the Director.  This smacked of touchy feely stuff and was one of the reasons he avoided conferences and seminars like the plague.

“Gibbs,” prompted the Director.

“Jethro Gibbs,” said Gibbs, “Marine sniper.  Joined NCIS few years back.  Just back from a posting in Europe.  Which is classified.”

Tom sighed, “And … anything else you care to share?  Any other skills?”

“I speak Russian,” said Gibbs.

“Hobbies?  Interests outside work?” pushed the Director who seemed to be having rather too much fun.

“Woodwork,” said Gibbs grudgingly, “And sailing.”  He drained his first cup and started on the second with an air that suggested he didn’t want to be interrupted again.

“Burley,” said Tom, “As Gibbs did.  But feel free to speak in longer sentences if you wish.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Blond guy.  “Stanley Burley, Stan … well, I was aide to Senator Chong for three years …”

“What?” said Gibbs involuntarily.

“You know the Senator?” asked Stan.

“No,” said Gibbs in apparent revulsion at the slur of suggesting he knew a politician.  “ _You’re_ the politician?”

“No, Sir.  I mean, no, Agent Gibbs,” said Burley, “I was, but not now.”

“So, _you’re_ the cop,” said Gibbs to Dishevelled man who yawned and said, “Good to meet you,” before returning his attention to his coffee.

“Carry on,” ordered Morrow.

“I was at Harvard before becoming an aide,” said Stan, “I majored in Earth and Planetary Sciences and played football.”

Dishevelled guy looked up from his coffee with the first look of interest he had displayed that morning.

“Thank you,” said Morrow, “I should say that Agent Burley came third in his class at FLETC.”

Gibbs nodded.  He preferred hands-on training in the field but he recognised that this was an achievement.

“DiNozzo,” said the Director, “your turn.”

Dishevelled guy, now revealed to be called DiNozzo, yawned, “DiNozzo.  Phys-ed major at Ohio State.  Police departments in Peoria and Philadelphia and then moved to Baltimore where I made detective and lieutenant before the Director poached me to come to NCIS.  Played football and basketball.  Oh, and I like to go to the movies sometimes.”

This time the snort came from the Director.  “You’ll learn that Agent DiNozzo is understating the case when he talks about movies,” he said drily.  “OK, gentlemen, introductions over.  Here’s what I propose: ten days for you to get acclimated to one another, find out your strengths and weaknesses, organise your work area and then I’ll put the MCRT on rotation.  Any questions?”

“No, Sir,” said Gibbs, “I think we’ll need to work on physical fitness first,” he looked sternly at DiNozzo who was looking forlornly into his empty cup.

“That will be for Agent DiNozzo to decide,” said the Director, “I won’t be getting involved in the details of the new team.”

“Sir?” asked Gibbs.

Morrow stood up, “Special Agent in Charge DiNozzo, I think we’ve got a good team here.  Congratulations but I’m sure you know there’s going to be a lot of people watching you all.”

DiNozzo dragged himself to his feet.  “Thank you, Director, we won’t let you down.”

The Director nodded and walked to the door, “This room is yours for the rest of the day if you need it.  Good day, everyone.”

DiNozzo slumped back into his chair and closed his eyes for a few seconds.  Gibbs took the opportunity to come to terms with his shock.  The Director had never said that _he_ would be leading the new team but Gibbs had broken one of his rules and taken it for granted especially when he had seen his new co-workers who were all considerably younger than him.

“Look,” said DiNozzo, “why don’t we call it a day?  I understand Agent Gibbs has only recently returned to DC: I’m sure he has chores at home to catch up on.  Stan, you only finished at FLETC yesterday and you probably need to sort out your new accommodation.  We’ll start again tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Burley agreeably.

“What about you?” asked Gibbs slightly less agreeably.

“What about me?” asked DiNozzo.

“What’s your excuse for needing to finish early?”

DiNozzo looked puzzled but said, “I had a long night.  See you tomorrow.  09.00 in our new squad room.”

“But,” said Gibbs, “Crime doesn’t wait, you know.  We should be getting ready.”

“Thank you for pointing that out, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony, “Tell you what, as you’re so anxious to get moving, why don’t you work on a PT schedule for us?  It seems to be an area you’re interested in.”

“Right,” said Gibbs.

DiNozzo stared at his new agent for a moment or two but then his eyelids drooped heavily and he gave it up.  “I need coffee,” he muttered, “And sugar.  Lots of sugar.”

Gibbs picked up his coffee and stalked out.  Burley hesitated for a few seconds and then followed him.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Agent Gibbs,” he offered.

Gibbs turned to look at him and softened when he saw his obvious goodwill and sincerity.   Stan reminded him of a half-grown Labrador puppy.   “Yes,” he said, “Me too.  See you in the morning.”

NCISNCIS

Gibbs was working on his boat that night when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Wow,” came DiNozzo’s voice, “You weren’t kidding when you said you like woodwork and sailing!  Have to hope you’re into conjuring too.”

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“How else are you going to get this thing out when it’s finished?”

“I’ll manage,” said Gibbs brusquely.

“Sorry,” said DiNozzo, “I come barging in and start criticizing you.  I didn’t mean to be rude.  I did ring the doorbell and I knocked but you didn’t answer and the door was open.”

“Doorbell doesn’t work,” said Gibbs.  “Door’s always unlocked.”

“I see,” said DiNozzo in a tone of voice which suggested he didn’t really.

Gibbs was used to this reaction and he looked as DiNozzo gazed somewhat bemusedly around the basement.  He noticed that his new Boss looked a bit livelier than he had earlier in the day and seemed to have found time to shave and change clothes.

“Can I do something for you?” asked Gibbs.

“Yes,” said DiNozzo ruefully, “I don’t think we got off on the right foot this morning.  I’m Anthony DiNozzo.  People call me Tony.”

Gibbs nodded.  He had spent some of the day doing his own form of research into Tony and discovered that he came from a wealthy family and been privately educated.  The scholarship to Ohio State and a career in law enforcement didn’t quite gibe with that background but nobody had been able to suggest a reason for that.  DiNozzo hadn’t stayed much longer than two years at his first two police departments but seemed to have left on good terms from all of them and had stayed with Baltimore for four years.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony.

Gibbs gazed back blankly.  He thought this showed that Tony hadn’t read his file; _nobody_ looked forward to working with him.  Tony returned the stare, half of him expected Gibbs to reply with a polite ‘me too’ but the other half (which had read the file) was more realistic.  He changed tack.

“What you think of Stan?” he asked.

“Too early to say,” said Gibbs before deciding that perhaps his new Boss deserved something more.  “Seems eager.”

“Reminds me of a Labrador puppy,” said Tony thoughtfully.

Gibbs’ head jerked up at this observation.  Perhaps there was more to this guy than he’d thought.

“Well,” said Tony, “I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve got places to be.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” said Gibbs as his temporary goodwill dissolved in the face of Tony’s social commitments.

“Nice place,” said Tony approvingly as he took one last look around the basement, “Your very own man-cave!”

“ _Man-cave_ ,” muttered Gibbs as Tony trotted up the stairs, “What’s wrong with calling it a basement?”

NCISNCIS

Tony was already in the new squad room when Gibbs arrived the next morning.

“Morning, Agent Gibbs,” he called out cheerily.

“Morning,” said Gibbs.  He directed one of his penetrating stares at DiNozzo but he seemed to be well rested this morning although Gibbs wasn’t sure that his jeans and sweatshirt were suitable attire for a senior NCIS agent.

“Choose which desk you want, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony.  “Then I’ll arrange for the It department to set up your computers.”

“Computers?” asked Gibbs, “You mean as in more than one?”

“I know,” agreed Tony heavily, “I thought one would be enough but apparently when the Director said we would be well-equipped he was talking about computers.”

Gibbs sighed.

“Not much of a computer guy, I guess?” said Tony sympathetically.  Gibbs shook his head.  “Me neither,” confessed Tony.  “I’ve been doing some work out of Norfolk.  There was a young guy there who’s a real computer geek …”

“Freak?” queried Gibbs.

“Matter of opinion, I guess,” said Tony, “But I said ‘geek’.  Anyways, I’ve got my eye on him for our team.  He’s the greenest thing that’s not a vegetable I’ve ever seen but he’s eager.”

“Like a green Labrador,” suggested Gibbs.

Tony beamed at this unexpected joke, “Exactly!  I think we need some sort of computer nerd.  You and I aren’t going to be up to speed and I don’t think it’s Stan’s specialty either.”

“Where is he?” asked Gibbs looking at his watch which showed at 09.05.

“Here,” said Stan hurrying in, “Sorry, I’m late.”

Gibbs opened his mouth to deliver his normal bon mot about apologies but stopped when he realised it was Tony’s job to deliver rebukes.  Tony cocked his head in enquiry.

“I found a new place yesterday,” said Stan a little breathlessly, “It took me longer to get here than I thought.”

“You’ll know tomorrow,” said Tony after a slight pause.

“Yes, Sir,” said Stan, “It won’t happen again.”

Tony nodded.  Almost despite himself, Gibbs found he was impressed.  The words had been bland and the gaze benign but there was something behind both that suggested that Tony would not tolerate any more tardiness.

“Agent Gibbs,” said Tony, “You were going to work up some plans for our PT.  Have you got anything for us?”

“Yes, made a start.  Need to do some evaluations to fine tune it,” replied Gibbs.

“OK,” said Tony, “Let’s get to it.  Come on, Stan.”

Burley looked slightly terrified at the thought of being ‘evaluated’ by Gibbs but showed his mettle by nodding calmly.  Gibbs grinned a feral grin and Tony smiled benevolently at them both before leading them towards the gym.

Half an hour later Gibbs had to admit that his new co-workers were fitter than he’d expected although, as he looked at them both sprawled breathless and sweaty on the mats, he felt they had a way to go before they reached his standards.

“You need to work on your stamina,” he told them.

Stan managed to catch his breath, “Don’t we have cars to chase the bad guys in?” he gasped.  “How far do you expect us to run after them?”

Tony huffed a laugh, “I chased someone down for two miles once,” he said.  “They got away in the end.  Guess I needed someone like Agent Gibbs as my personal trainer.”

Stan looked depressed at this and sank back to the mat.  Gibbs bent over him with a sympathetic look and patted him on the shoulder.  Stan looked at him hopefully but the hope drained from his face when Gibbs announced,

“Hand to hand!  Want to check your fighting skills.  And before you ask, I know you’ve got a gun.  You don’t get to shoot all your suspects.”

Tony groaned but rolled to his feet and extended a hand to help Stan up.

“I’ll go first,” he said, “take the edge off Agent Gibbs.”

Stan nodded gratefully and tottered over to a bench to watch Gibbs and DiNozzo sparring.  DiNozzo was once again better than Gibbs had expected but he didn’t stand much of a chance against Gibbs’ superior skills.  As he hit the ground for the tenth time he looked up at Gibbs and said ruefully,

“I sure hope you’re not going easy on me!”

Gibbs gave his version of a smile.  “You’ve got some skills,” he acknowledged, “And that was a sneaky trick with your left foot.”

“Usually works,” said Tony glumly.

“We can work on it,” said Gibbs.  “Burley!  You’re up!”

Tony took his turn watching and observed that Gibbs didn’t try to prove he was better than Stan but was testing him to see where his strengths and weaknesses lay and took care not to undermine him too much.  Not that he let Stan put him down on the floor.  At the end of the session Stan knew very clearly that Gibbs was the better fighter but he didn’t feel demoralised by the experience but rather determined to get better.  Tony acknowledged that it was well done by Gibbs.  He stood up and clapped his hands.

“OK,” he said, “we’ll break for lunch.  Agent Gibbs, I suggest we do an hour’s PT first thing each morning.  You draw up a schedule for us.”

“OK,” said Gibbs.

“And for yourself,” said Tony, “You don’t want to get fat watching us sweat.”

Gibbs nodded.

“Back in the squad room at 13.00,” ordered Tony, “we’re going to the shooting range this afternoon.”

In deference to Gibbs’ history as a sniper Tony let Gibbs take the lead in putting them all through their paces at the shooting range although he drew the line at Gibbs putting Stan’s phone on his target.

“I want to be able to contact you all at any time,” he said, “So, no putting bullets through your cell.  That won’t wash as an excuse.”

“ _Never be unreachable,”_ murmured Gibbs.

Once again Gibbs was pleased with the standard of Stan and Tony.  He thought that Stan needed more practice away from the rarefied atmosphere of the range but suspected that Tony, over these short distances, was probably as good as himself.  Gibbs thought he might give Tony a run for his money over long distances but had to concede that there weren’t many times that a NCIS agent needed to be a sniper.

Tony was pleased with the first full day of training.  Gibbs seemed to have enjoyed showing them what to do and Stan had begun to relax a little: Tony hoped the sense of being a team was beginning to grow …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems to me that shows and movies often have a youngish leader with a grizzled older person acting as second – I thought it would be interesting to explore that dynamic and have Tony as lead and Gibbs as his second in command.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, after their session in the gym, Tony took them into a conference room,

“Stan, I want you to give us a rundown on what it was like to be a Senator’s aide.”

“What?” asked Gibbs and Stan simultaneously.

“I want you to give us a rundown on what it was like to be a Senator’s aide,” repeated Tony.

“Er … why?” asked Stan.

“Director Morrow put you on the team for a reason,” said Tony, “You’ve got a rare insight into the workings of politics in DC.  It seems a safe bet that we’ll be running into senators and congressmen at some point.  I’d like your take on how we should deal with them.”

Gibbs muttered something under his breath.

“And no, Agent Gibbs, we can’t shoot them,” said Tony: he hadn’t quite heard what Gibbs had said but he had a good idea of what it was.

Gibbs grinned at him and shrugged. 

“Go on,” said Tony, “start off by telling us what your job involved.  Build from there.”

“Well,” said Stan, “It depended on what the Senator was doing.  Sometimes it was meeting people from his State, attending committee hearings, meeting with his staff …”

After a hesitant beginning, Stan warmed to his theme.  Tony, and finally Gibbs, threw in the occasional question and they ended up having a lively discussion about DC politics. 

“Why did you go to work as an aide?” asked Gibbs.  The implication was clear: Stan seemed a sensible guy so why sup with the devil?

“I was always interested in politics,” said Stan lifting his chin in defiance of Gibbs’ still jaundiced view of politicians.  “How things get done.  Why things got done.  Why some things don’t get done.  I wanted to learn more and being an aide seemed a good way.”

“So why move on to NCIS?” asked Gibbs.

“Guess I found out how and why things get done,” said Stan, “And I decided I wanted to do something more practical.  My Senator had an interest in the Navy so I got to go to hearings and meetings about it.  My grandfather was a cop in Los Angeles so I guess it’s in the blood somewhere.  Navy cop seemed a good mix.”

“Good enough,” said Tony.  “Lunch time.  I’ve asked Dr Mallard and Miss Scuito to join us.”

“You have?” asked Gibbs.

“My treat,” said Tony, “Consider it compensation for me hijacking your lunchtime.”

“I just wondered why,” said Gibbs.

“Autopsy and Forensics will be important to us.  Our cases will have priority over teams.  I want to make sure we build a good working relationship with them.”

“I already know Ducky and Abby,” said Gibbs mildly.

“Then you can do the introductions,” said Tony easily.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” said Abby happily when the MCRT members joined her and Ducky in the break room.  She ran up to him and hugged him.  She then seemed to think this was impolite and hugged a startled Stan and appreciative Tony as well.

“Abs, Duck,” said Gibbs, “this is Tony DiNozzo and Stan Burley.”

“I know,” said Abby brightly, “I mean I know Tony from his days at the Navy Yard before.  And I guessed that this is Stan.  Hi, guys!”

“Miss Scuito,” said Burley politely.

“Abby,” said Abby firmly, “if you’re on Gibbs’ team you’re a friend.  And friends call me Abby.”

“Oh.  Yes.  Abby.  Uh, nice to meet you, Abby,” said Stan.

“Anthony,” said Ducky, “it is wonderful to see you again.  I have missed our discussions about movies.  We will have to reinstate them now that you are returned to our midst.  You must come and visit.  Mother will be delighted to see her Italian gigolo once more!”

“Italian gigolo?” asked Stan.

“You didn’t tell us about that when you gave us your career résumé,” said Gibbs drily.

Tony blushed, “Mrs Mallard got the wrong end of the stick the first time I visited,” he said.

“Why _Italian_ gigolo?” asked Stan.

Tony looked at him, “You suggesting that the gigolo bit doesn’t need explaining?” he demanded.

“No!  No,” said Stan as he realised what he’d suggested, “No, of course not, Sir.  I didn’t mean to imply that … although you are very good looking so you may not have any … I mean,” he ground to a halt.  “Actually, I’m not sure what I meant now.  I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Don’t apologise,” said Tony.  Gibbs’ ears pricked up as it appeared that Tony was about to show that he adhered to another of Gibbs’ rules.  “Or rather, only apologise if you’ve done something that needs forgiveness.  And if you’re really sorry.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Stan, “And believe me, I am really sorry.”

Tony grinned.  “To answer your question,” he said, “ _Italian_ gigolo because my great grandparents came from Italy.  Where did you think the name DiNozzo came from?”

“You speak Italian?” asked Gibbs intervening before Stan could launch into another involved explanation.

“Some,” said Tony with an exaggerated shrug which seemed designed to indicate a Latin ancestry.

“His Spanish is better,” broke in Abby.  “He knows loads of cuss words!”

“I was about to say that I learnt it from our housekeeper,” said Tony, “But that would give you the wrong impression of Consuela.”

“When did you work at the Navy Yard the first time?” asked Gibbs.

“It was my first posting.  I was on Chris Pacci’s team for my first year,” said Tony.

Gibbs nodded approvingly.  Chris Pacci was one of the best agents working for NCIS and had a good reputation for training new agents.

“What did you do after that?” asked Stan.

“I moved around a lot,” said Tony vaguely, “TAD in San Diego.  Senior Field Agent in Hawaii.  Spell as Agent Afloat.”

“Anthony has lots of tee-shirts,” pronounced Ducky.

Four pairs of eyes focussed on the doctor in puzzlement.

“You know,” said Ducky, “ _Been there, got the tee-shirt.”_

 _“_ Right,” said Tony after the moment of silence due Ducky’s unexpected comment, “Let’s eat.  I’ll run through some proposals I have for Ducky and Abby.  I suggest that we each spend a half day watching Abby and Ducky work.  Not necessarily an autopsy,” Tony added quickly as he saw a grimace on Stan’s face, “I know we’ve all had to watch one of those as part of our training.  No, I want us to get an idea about how we can best interact with Ducky and Abby – how not to get in their way, how best to present evidence to them, how long their reports will take.”

“That sounds splendid,” said Ducky, “Although, of course, you are always welcome in my domain, I do confess that a modicum of order and respect would be welcome as I prefer to maintain a seemly and solemn aspect in autopsy.  And I would be happy to draw a list of suggested behaviours.  I recognise that there will be occasions …”

“Thank you, Ducky,” interrupted Tony, “Perhaps I should be your first visitor and you can brief me on those proposals.  Abby, are you happy for us to spend some time with you?”

Abby’s face lit up.  “I would _love_ for you to come and spend time with me and Bert.”

“Bert’s her hippo,” said Tony in an aside to Stan, “Her farting hippo.”

Stan looked at Tony in bemusement.

“Her stuffed farting hippo,” Tony added and then realising that Stan was still dazed by this revelation, continued, “Her stuffed farting _toy_ hippo.”

Stan nodded, still puzzled but relieved that Abby’s lab wasn’t dominated by a life size hippo.

“Send me times that would suit,” requested Tony, “And we’ll arrange something.  And, when MCRT is on rotation, I’d like you both to come and spend time watching what we do.  What our pressures are.”

“That would be so cool,” beamed Abby.

“That would be a most worthwhile use of my time,” said Ducky more moderately.

Abby and Ducky left soon afterwards and Stan got called away to fill out more forms for HR.

“What’s the idea about sessions with Ducky and Abby?” asked Gibbs.

“Partly for Stan,” said Tony, “I don’t want to waste time once we’re up and running with him learning how to cope with Ducky and Abby.  You’ll admit they take some adjusting to.”

“You said _partly,_ ” queried Gibbs, “What’s the other part?”

“It’s been a while since you worked here,” said Tony, “Things may have changed.  I think it would be good to get up to speed.  And it’s more than two years since I was based here so the same applies to me.  And it’s no hardship to spend time with Abby and Ducky, is it?”

Gibbs didn’t answer but took another mouthful of sandwich instead.  He guessed he was going to have to come to terms with working with someone who believed in the benefits of talking things through.

NCISNCIS

The next day, after the PT session, Tony took his team to the garage.

“We gonna learn how to drive now?” asked Gibbs.

“I’ve read your file, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony, “I know about your driving.  Hell, the whole of the Navy Yard knows about your driving!”

“I don’t,” offered Stan.

“Don’t be in a hurry to find out,” suggested Tony.  “Although you’re young enough that losing a few years off your life won’t matter so much to you.”

Stan looked at Gibbs for explanation but his co-worker simply shrugged and looked innocent.

“I wanted to introduce you,” said Tony.

“Someone else joining the team?” asked Stan.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Tony, “Look!”  He pointed to a vehicle parked in a corner of the garage.  “It’s our MCRT truck.”

“We get a truck?” asked Gibbs with a smile.

“Sure do.  First visit to a crime scene we’ll need plenty of gear.  Easier to take it all in the truck.  I want us to get used to driving it.  And getting to know where all the gear is stowed.  Stan, it’ll be your job to keep it stocked.  OK?”

Stan nodded enthusiastically.

“Today we’re going to go out driving in the truck.  We’ll take it in turns but, and it’s a big but, I warn you that I get carsick when the driving’s not smooth.  I don’t intend to spend my working day drugged up on Dramamine so you’d better learn how to drive properly.”

Gibbs and Stan looked at each other speculatively and Tony wondered if they were thinking what it would be like to have him permanently on drugs.  He decided to spare them the information about his reactions to medicines but provided another clincher to his argument,

“And if I get motion sickness when you’re driving – well, you clean up after me.  OK, I’m driving first!”

His co-workers were almost relieved to hear that after his threats and made their way to the passenger door.  Stan acknowledged his position in the team hierarchy by taking the seat in the middle.

“Where we going?” asked Gibbs.

“We’re going to make sure we know the way to key sites,” said Tony, “Quantico, Pax River, Annapolis … and we’ll head to Norfolk one day.  We’ll go at different times of day – get to know traffic patterns, work out alternate routes.  Oh, and we’ll go to Rock Creek Park.”

“Why?” asked Stan, “There isn’t a navy base there, is there?”

“Gibbs?” said Tony, “Care to explain.”

“Stan,” said Gibbs, “You’ll find out.  For some reason sailors seem to end up dead in Rock Creek Park all the time.  Say,” he continued, “We should test out Shenandoah as well.  Unless things have changed since I’ve been away.”

“Good thought,” said Tony.

“You’re kidding,” said Stan twisting his head to look at both of them, “Aren’t you?”

“Oh, Stan,” sighed Tony, “Oh, to be as innocent as a new Probie!”

The new MCRT didn’t go to Rock Creek Park that day so Stan was unable to test out Gibbs and Tony’s statement but he did get a chance to drive the truck and was relieved that he didn’t make Tony carsick.  Stan also couldn’t understand Tony’s veiled hints about Gibbs’ driving as the older man had driven the truck in an exemplary manner.  Tony’s contented expression at the end of the day was proof that he hadn’t had to break out the Dramamine.

“We’re going to look at some old case files tomorrow,” he announced, “Get a feel for some real-life action.”

NCISNCIS

Gibbs was surprised when he got to the Navy Yard the next morning and found Tony dressed in a smart charcoal grey suit.  So far, his new Boss had continued to favour jeans and casual tops.

“Didn’t tell us to dress up,” Gibbs commented.

“What?” asked Tony.

“Suit,” said Gibbs, “And tie.”

“Oh,” said Tony as he smoothed down the dark blue tie.  “Yeah, I’m going to have to leave you with the case files this morning.”

Gibbs was about to ask why when he was interrupted.

“Hey, nice suit,” said Stan, “Were we supposed to be dressing up today?”

“What is it,” grumbled Tony, “I come to work in a suit and it’s all you can talk about.”

“Oh,” said Stan, “It’s just …”

“That so far you’ve looked as if you’re allergic to ties,” Gibbs finished for him.

Tony smoothed the tie again, “I’ll have you know that, according to Ducky, I can be very dapper when the occasion calls for it.”

“Dapper?” said Gibbs and Stan together.

Tony looked at them sourly, “Good to see the team building’s working,” he said, “we just need to extend it in my direction too.”

Gibbs and Stan continued to show solidarity and stared at Tony.

“OK.  I’m in court today.  This is my court suit.”

“Why are you in court?” asked Stan anxiously, perhaps thinking it was something to do with being a gigolo.

“I’m giving evidence,” said Tony a little coolly, “In one of my cases.  It’s one of the things that happens when you’re an NCIS agent, Agent Burley.”

“Ah,” said Stan, “Yes, that makes more sense.”

“More sense than what?” asked Tony a little dangerously.

“Than nothing,” said Stan.

Tony stared at him a little longer to make his point and then spoke, “I’ll be gone most of the morning.  I want you to look at these old cases and evaluate the evidence, the reports … see what you think is good and what could have been done better.  Write it up and we’ll discuss them tomorrow.”

Stan and Gibbs looked a little forlornly at the heap of folders.  Tony sighed as he realised how, unexpectedly, his two agents were similar in many ways.

“Couldn’t we come too?” asked Stan who definitely seemed to be losing his diffidence.

“What?” said Tony.

“Couldn’t we come too?  To watch,” said Stan, “I haven’t seen an agent giving evidence before.”  He turned big eyes on Tony not realising that he was increasing his resemblance to the Labrador puppy.

“Not a bad idea,” contributed Gibbs who also didn’t relish a morning with old files.  “I remember my first time in court.  Made me nervous.”

“I find that hard to believe, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony sceptically.  “Oh, all right, come on.  I’ll fill you in on the case as we go.  Richard Connolly is accused of …”

Tony turned to pick up his briefcase.  Stan gave Gibbs a thumbs up as Tony’s back was turned and was rewarded by the ghost of a wink.

NCISNCIS

“That was impressive, wasn’t it?” said Stan as he and Gibbs drove back to the Navy Yard later that morning.  Tony had remained at the court in case he was needed again.

“How so?” asked Gibbs.

“Agent DiNozzo was so calm.  Didn’t allow the defence lawyer to rile him but wasn’t patronising or anything.  I’d have believed him.”

“I hope you don’t think NCIS agents would stand up and lie on oath,” said Gibbs severely.

“No, of course not,” said Stan.  “And especially Agent DiNozzo.  Of course not.  But if I was a juror and didn’t know that NCIS agents always speak the truth, I’d have believed him.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Gibbs drily.

“I think I’ll ask him where he got the suit.”

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“It was a trustworthy suit.”

“What?” repeated Gibbs.  “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Stan, “but it made him look trustworthy.  Upstanding.  I think it’s a look I may need.”

“I don’t know about the suit,” said Gibbs, “But you’re right.  He did well.  That defence lawyer got more and more frustrated and DiNozzo just got calmer and calmer.  Good tactic.”

“Do you think the defendant will be found guilty?”

“Can never tell.  Lot hinges on NCIS testimony.”

“Slam dunk then,” said Stan, “The testimony was great.  And then there’s the suit …”

NCISNCIS

Gibbs was sitting with Ducky later that afternoon.  He and Stan had finished going through the old cases but Tony hadn’t joined them, the prosecution lawyer wanted him on hand in case he was called again.

“May I ask how are you enjoying your new team, Jethro?” asked Ducky.

“Burley seems a good kid,” said Gibbs, “Bright, willing, eager.”

“Like so many Probies who have gone before,” reflected Ducky wistfully, “I hope the _shine_ doesn’t come off him too soon.  Stanley reminds me of a young lad in my village in Scotland.  The son of the Factor at the big house,” Ducky sighed.

“And?” asked Gibbs waiting for a tragic punchline.

“And?” replied Ducky coming out of his reverie, “Oh.  And nothing.  He just reminds me of him.  Nothing more.  They have the same colour hair.  And the same expression.”

“Like a Labrador,” suggested Gibbs.

“More like a Dandie Dinmont Terrier,” countered the Scottish patriot, “But I see what you mean.  And what about Special Agent DiNozzo?”

“What about him?  You mean what sort of dog is he like?”

“No,” said Ducky crossly, “That isn’t what I mean – as you well know.  Although I believe there is an Italian Greyhound which is a rather elegant breed …  But you are not going to distract me.  What do you think of Anthony?”

Gibbs was about to open when his cell rang.  He lifted a finger to ask Ducky to wait and answered,

“Gibbs.”

“Agent Gibbs, Agent Burley here.  Stan.  I think there’s something wrong.”

“What’s wrong, Stan?”

“I think I’ve just seen Agent DiNozzo being forced into a car by a couple of men.  One of them looked like someone who was in court this morning …”

 


	3. Chapter 3

“I notified Metro PD,” said Stan, “Gave them a heads up that there was a federal agent in potential danger.  Then I called you.”

Gibbs nodded.  Stan had done well.  Metro PD could get to a crime scene faster than NCIS.  Gibbs had left a message for the Director who was in a meeting at the Capitol and then hurried to meet up with Stan.  Stan had blinked when Gibbs had arrived in an incredibly short space of time; perhaps there had been something behind Tony’s hints about Gibbs’ driving!

“I followed the car they put Agent DiNozzo in.  They took him into that building,” said Stan, “pointing to a real estate office.  Metro PD are around the back.”

“Good work, Stan,” said Gibbs as he took the binoculars and scanned the building.  “What were you doing here?”

“Ah,” said Stan with a hint of embarrassment.  “I was on my way home and I was close to the court so I thought I might be able to catch Agent DiNozzo and ask him where he got that suit.  You know, the court suit.  I’d just driven up to the court building when I saw the guys grab him.”

“Might have saved his life,” said Gibbs, “Never heard of clothes doing that before.”

“Should we let the FBI know?” asked Stan, “They might have jurisdiction.”

“Hold fire on that for now,” said Gibbs continuing to weigh up the situation.  He looked through the binoculars again, “What the hell!  What’s he doing here?”

“Agent Gibbs?” asked Stan, “Who are you talking about?”

But Gibbs didn’t answer as, at that moment, they heard the sound of gunfire coming from the real estate office.  They were both out of the car and ready for action immediately.

NCISNCIS

“Of all the STUPID things to do,” shouted Gibbs, “what were you thinking?”

“Jethro,” said Ducky reprovingly, “Lower your voice.  I believe Anthony has a concussion.  He certainly has a headache and could do without you aggravating it.”

“He’s lucky it’s just a concussion,” said Gibbs still managing to inject anger into his voice at the lower level.

“Jethro, it was all under control,” came the voice of another occupant of Autopsy.

“Under control?” bellowed Gibbs again.

“Gentlemen!” said Ducky crossly, “Might I remind you of the need for quiet?  If you cannot restrain yourselves, I will have to ask you to leave.  Indeed, I am not entirely sure why you are both here in any case.” 

Ducky looked around Autopsy:  at Tony sitting somewhat forlornly on one of Ducky’s tables, at Gibbs hovering in a manner veering between concern and menace and at FBI Agent Tobias Fornell who was standing, arms folded, with a benevolent smile on his face.

“Understood, Ducky,” said Fornell, “I just need to get a statement from DiNotso.

“A statement about what, Tobias?” asked Ducky as he took a closer look at the wound on Tony’s head.

“I am here,” said Tony crossly, “I’m not one of your _deceased_ clients, you know.”

“I am very glad to say you have given a correct diagnosis,” said Ducky placidly, “And I do apologise if I have seemed less than attentive.”

“Apology accepted,” said Tony, “And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“Quite understandable, dear boy.  What I find less _understandable_ is why you are sitting before me in such a battered state.  I had understood that you were simply giving evidence in court this afternoon.”

“That’s what I want to know as well,” said Gibbs.

“Richard Connolly,” sighed Tony, “Was responsible for a drugs network.  Targeted young sailors based at Pax River – which was how NCIS got involved.  We got the evidence against him and he was charged.  The FBI then heard about it.  Seems that Richard was working on behalf of his brother Chris.  Who is a much bigger fish.  And who the FBI wanted – badly.  They interviewed Richard; tried to get him to turn big brother in, promised him a lighter sentence or witness protection but he refused.”

Gibbs nodded.  “OK, so what happened?”

“We came up with the idea of spreading a rumour,” said Tony, “A rumour that if Ricky went down, if he was found guilty, that he would turn against Chris.  We thought that would make Chris target Ricky and we could get him for something.  And it might make Ricky really turn against him.”

“And that didn’t work?” asked Gibbs.

“Yes, it did,” said Fornell.

“It did?” asked Tony.

“Yes.  Heard a few minutes ago.  There was an attack on the bus taking Ricky to prison,” said Fornell.

“So, why are you sitting here looking as if you’ve just gone five rounds with Rocky Balboa?” demanded Gibbs.

“Agent Gibbs,” said Tony squinting to look at him, “A movie reference.  I’m impressed.  But to answer your question I’m sitting here looking as if I’ve just gone five rounds with Rocky because I feel as I have.  Turns out that Chris Connolly is a thorough guy.”

“How so?” asked Gibbs.

“He didn’t care enough about baby brother to take the star witness down when Ricky was on trial … but when he thought _he_ might be next.  Well, let’s just say, he did decide to take the star witness down,” said Tony.

“And you’re the star witness?” said Gibbs.

“As I live and breathe,” said Tony.

“It wasn’t completely unexpected,” said Fornell, “we – well, me – had eyes on DiNotso.  Saw what happened and followed him.  And he had a wire on.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Tony, “Is how you turned up, Agent Gibbs.”

“Stan,” said Gibbs.

“Stan?” asked Tony.

“He was on his way to see you.  To ask about where you bought that damned suit.  He saw you.  Followed you.  Called Metro PD and then called me.”

“Good for Stan,” said Tony.

“We were waiting outside.  Deciding what to do when I saw Tobias and his crew stationed around.  Then all hell broke loose,” said Gibbs.

“I had to give up waiting,” said Tony, “Managed to grab a gun but there were too many of them.  I shot one and then … it got loud.”

“You should have told me that you were involved with a case,” said Gibbs.

“The team isn’t up and running yet,” said Tony wearily, “And it was a long shot.  I didn’t think anything was going to happen.”

“You were concerned enough to wear a wire,” Gibbs pointed out.

“The Director knew,” said Tony.

“He was in a meeting,” hissed Gibbs, “You can’t just have one person as back-up.”

Tony slumped even more and Ducky decided to intervene.

“Anthony, you need to go to hospital to get that concussion checked.  Tobias, the statement can wait until tomorrow.  Jethro, are you able to take Anthony to the hospital?”

Fornell and Gibbs agreed easily but Tony tried to resist the hospital visit.  Ducky was implacable and, in the end, Tony lacked the energy to argue further and even let Gibbs hold his arm as they walked out.

“I’m warning you, Agent Gibbs,” he said, “That I’m even more likely to be carsick when I’ve got a concussion.”

“I’ll drive carefully.  As if you were a baby,” promised Gibbs, “But don’t fall asleep on the way.”

NCISNCIS

Some hours later, Tony emerged from being poked and prodded to find Gibbs in the waiting room.

“Agent Gibbs?  What are you doing here?  I thought you’d be long gone.”

“Thought you’d need a ride home,” said Gibbs, “You good to go?”

Tony nodded carefully but before he could start walking out, a nurse scurried out to catch him.

“Agent DiNozzo,” he called, “You forgot your medication and care instructions.”

“Nice try,” said Gibbs to Tony, “But it never works.”

“Are you his buddy?” asked the nurse.

Tony coughed involuntarily at this thought.

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“Agent DiNozzo should not be alone tonight,” said the nurse, “He needs a concussion buddy.  Are you familiar with the protocols for someone suffering concussion?”

“I know the drill,” said Gibbs holding his hand out for the medication and instructions.

“And he needs to keep his head wound dry,” added the nurse, “There are three stitches which need to be kept dry for a few days.”

“I’ll take care of it,” promised Gibbs.

“Gibbs …” began Tony.

“Come on,” said Gibbs, “Or they’ll keep you in overnight.”

“Quite right,” said the nurse.

Tony allowed himself to be walked out of the Emergency Room and into Gibbs’ car.

“Your place or mine?” asked Gibbs.

“Is that a proposition?” asked Tony. 

Gibbs just glared at him.  “You know what I mean.  Do you want to sleep at your place or come to mine?”

“Better be yours,” said Tony reluctantly, “I’m in a hotel at the moment.  Don’t think they’ll want me to have a roomie.”

Gibbs decided to shelve any discussion about why Tony was living in a hotel and simply drove to his house.  Tony fell asleep on the way and Gibbs had to wake him up when they arrived.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he said, “Let’s get inside.  I’ll make you some tea and toast.  You should be able to keep that down.”

“You’ve done this before,” said Tony.

“A few times,” said Gibbs drily.  “You want a shower?  I’ve got some stuff to keep that cut dry.”

“Thanks,” said Tony, “I want to get the hospital smell off me.”

“Go on,” said Gibbs, “I’ll get your room ready.  The food will be waiting for you.  You gonna be OK in the shower?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Tony with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Leave the door unlocked,” said Gibbs, “Don’t want to have to break the door down if you pass out.”

“DiNozzos don’t pass out,” muttered Tony.

“If you say so,” said Gibbs.

Gibbs didn’t need to crash Tony’s shower and soon Tony was sitting at Gibbs’ kitchen table cautiously eating the toast and drinking the tea.

“Thanks for all this,” said Tony waving a weary hand at the food and the sweats which Gibbs had provided.

Gibbs simply shrugged.

“I’m going to bed,” announced Tony. “Sorry to be a party pooper.”

“I’ll wake you up in two hours,” said Gibbs.

“I know.  Not my first rodeo.”

“Didn’t think it was,” said Gibbs.

The concussion checks passed without incident.  Tony answered the questions briefly and succinctly allowing Gibbs to return to his rest although he spent some time planning what to say to Tony about where he had gone wrong in the Connolly case.

“Eggs OK for breakfast?” Gibbs asked the next morning.

“Scrambled?” said Tony hopefully.  “I don’t like them fried.  I always think they’re like eyes looking at me.”

“Funny coloured eyes,” observed Gibbs.  “But yes, I can do scrambled.”

Tony had drunk his first cup of coffee and got half way through his eggs when he looked at Gibbs and said,

“You remember when I told Stan only to apologise if you’ve done something that needs forgiveness.  And if you’re really sorry?”

Gibbs nodded.

“Well, I obey my rules.  So I am sorry about yesterday.  You were right.  I should have told you more was going on with the case.  If Stan had arrived a little earlier yesterday he could have caught up in something he didn’t bargain for.”

“That’s what happens to NCIS agents,” said Gibbs.

“Of course.  But still, I should have let you know.  We should make it a rule.”

“What?”

“Teams shouldn’t have secrets from one another.  Or, at least, not ones that might affect work.  We need to work as a team.  Agreed? “

Gibbs gazed at Tony, surprised that he had another rule which mirrored one of Gibbs’ own.

“Agreed,” he said.

“And that it’s OK to apologise,” ventured Tony.

“Jury’s out on that one,” said Gibbs cagily.

“OK,” said Tony, “And thank you again.  For last night.”

“No problem,” said Gibbs.

“I have to say that you’re the best concussion buddy I’ve ever had,” said Tony.

“I am?”

“And I’ve had a few.  But you’re the one who did it with the least fuss and bother.”

Gibbs felt oddly pleased even if Tony’s apology had pre-empted his plans for continuing the previous day’s argument.

“How well you know Fornell?” asked Gibbs.

“Tobes?” said Tony.  Gibbs raised an eyebrow in surprise.  “Not well enough to get away with calling him Tobes,” admitted Tony.  “We met on a few courses and seminars.  You know the sort of thing.”

Gibbs suppressed a shudder and managed a non-committal acknowledgement.

“He offered me a job with the FBI once,” said Tony reminiscently.

“He did?”

“Said I’d cause less havoc working with them than with Baltimore PD.  Let’s just say we had a few _discussions_ over jurisdiction.”

Gibbs grinned, pleased that it seemed that Tony would fight his corner.  “Why didn’t you take him up on it?”

“I’d only been lieutenant for six months.  Wanted to stay on.”

“Why’d you leave in the end?”

“It seemed time,” said Tony a little evasively, “And the Director came up with a good offer.  How well do you know Fornell?”

“We’ve met on the job.  Got a few … friends in common.”

“Hmm, that reminds me,” said Tony.

“Of what?”

“We need to pay some visits to local agencies.  To Metro.  Capitol Police.  ATF.”

“We do?” asked Gibbs.

“Sure.  You knew something odd was going down yesterday when you saw Fornell.  It would be good to get to know the faces we’ll bump into.  Good to do some networking as well.”

Gibbs stared at him in a jaundiced way.  Just as he was beginning to approve of DiNozzo, he was proposing days of socialising and hobnobbing.

“Suck it up, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony.  “You may even enjoy it.”

Gibbs drank his coffee in offended silence.  Tony chuckled.  After a moment or two, Gibbs asked,

“You coming into work today?”

“Sure,” said Tony, “Like you said once, crime doesn’t wait and we’ve got a lot to do.  But I’ll give PT a miss.  And I may postpone my visit to Abby’s lab: even without her music she’s too loud for my head today.  We’ll go over those reports you looked at yesterday.  And you can take Stan out to Rock Creek Park while I visit Tobes to give him my statement.  Oh, and you can drive him past my tailor!”

Gibbs couldn’t help but think that DiNozzo was far too energetic and enthusiastic for someone with a concussion, stitches and multiple bruises.  He thought he might consult Ducky to see if he’ had any further thoughts about what type of bouncy dog DiNozzo most resembled.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Agent DiNozzo,” said Stan when he arrived to work and found Gibbs and Tony already there, “Are you OK?  Agent Gibbs told me Dr Mallard had made you go to the Emergency Room.”

“I’m fine,” said Tony, “Or I will be.  Just banged up a bit.  You did well, Stan.  Kept your head.  Did what you should have done.”  Tony turned his head as he heard a rumble from Gibbs. “Good work, Stan.”

“Thank you,” blushed Stan.

“But,” Tony continued, “As, no doubt you’re aware, Agent Gibbs has voiced his disapproval that I didn’t clue you both in on what was going down.”

“Oh no, Sir,” stammered Stan, “I’m sure you …”

“And he was right,” said Tony cutting into Stan’s words, “He wasn’t right about me being involved with the operation,” he stared at Gibbs, “But he was right that I should have let you both know.  It’s an important lesson.  If we’re going to work as a team we need to know we can trust one another; be sure that we’ve all got all the information available; that there are no hidden agendas.  I got that wrong and I apologise.”

“Oh,” said Stan, “Er … thank you.”

“Don’t look so surprised, Stan,” said Tony, “I learned a long time ago that we all make mistakes.  And that’s fine, the important thing is that we learn from them and move on.  Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Stan, “I understand.  And I’m glad you’re OK.”

Tony paused for a moment to see if Gibbs was going to say anything but when the older agent remained silent he suppressed a sigh and said, “Let’s move on, then.  I’m going to step back from PT this morning but I’ll watch both of you instead.”

“Watch?” asked Gibbs.

“Sure,” said Tony, “Phys-ed major, remember?  It wasn’t all playing sport, you know.  I do know something about fitness and stamina.”

Tony was sitting watching Gibbs and Stan spar when the Director walked up to him.

“No, don’t get up,” he said when he saw Tony getting to his feet.  “I heard what went down yesterday.”

“Agent Fornell was right, Sir,” said Tony, “Kinda wish he hadn’t been,” he added ruefully as he felt the cut on his head.

“You could have taken the day,” said Morrow.

“Still got a lot to do,” said Tony, “And it’s difficult to relax in a hotel room.”

“I hear Agent Gibbs looked after you last night,” said Morrow.  Tony looked at him in surprise.  “Dr Mallard is a mine of information,” explained the Director.

“Yes, Agent Gibbs stepped up,” said Tony.

“That’s good,” suggested Morrow.  “Shows he cares.”

“Possibly,” said Tony.  “Who knows?  He’s tough to read.”

“How’s it going?”

“I think Stan will be good.”

“And Gibbs?”

“Early days.  Obviously he’s a good agent.  The jury’s out on whether he can put up with me as lead.”

“You need me to have a word?” asked the Director.

“I don’t think that would help, Sir.  Do you?”

“You’re probably right,” admitted the Director.

“We’ll be OK,” said Tony, “I think he just takes a while to warm up to people.”

The Director looked across at Gibbs and Stan just in time to see Gibbs clap the younger man on the shoulder as praise for a good punch.  He averted his eyes and remained diplomatically silent.  “Let me know if you need more time before going live,” he said.

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.”

“What the Director want?” asked Gibbs walking up Morrow left the gym.

“Checking up,” said Tony.  “You finished?”

“Yes,” said Gibbs, “Any comments?”

“No,” said Tony evenly, “All looking good.  Come up to the squad room when you’ve changed.  We’ll look at yesterday’s reports.”

NCISNCIS

It couldn’t be said that going through the reports was the most successful session the new MCRT had ever had.  As expected, Gibbs had picked up on most of the holes in the case files and spotted what was good.  Stan had made as good an attempt as Tony could have hoped for.  Perhaps it was because they had both done well or perhaps it was because Tony’s head was beginning to throb that the team leader found little to get a discussion going.  Tony quailed at the thought of any further sessions like this and decided he’d have to rethink the schedule.  Another misstep he thought gloomily.

“I’ve got to head over to the Hoover Building this afternoon,” announced Tony.  “You two can come with me.”

“I know where the Hoover Building is,” said Gibbs.

“And so do I,” said Stan helpfully.

“Good to know,” said Tony, “But you don’t know the people who work there.  We’ll run into FBI agents when we’re working cases – this’ll be your chance to get to recognise some faces.  Kill two birds with one stone.  It will be efficient,” he added before Gibbs could add another comment.

Gibbs shrugged and Stan looked excited at the thought of meeting the FBI.  Tony let Stan drive and then led his team into the building.

“Agents DiNozzo, Gibbs and Burley,” he announced to the security guard, “To see Agent Fornell.  He’s expecting us.”

Stan wondered when Tony had let Fornell know that he was bringing company and then gulped in horror when the security guard spoke.

“Can I see your ID, please?”

Gibbs and DiNozzo promptly got their creds out but Stan realised he’d left his in his desk.  Unlike the two more experienced agents it hadn’t become automatic for him to carry them at all times.

“Good lesson, Stan,” said DiNozzo, “You won’t do that again.”

The vetting procedure took longer for Stan but finally, with a bright red face, he was allowed through.

“Day for mistakes,” said Gibbs to nobody in particular.

“DiNotso,” said Fornell affably when they were escorted into his office, “And Jethro!  What a pleasure.  And this must be your new Probie.  The one who was stalking you yesterday.”

Tony looked at Stan and noticed that he kept his composure and didn’t rise to Fornell’s dig.

“Glad he did,” said Tony mildly, “He was good backup.  Thanks for doing this, Agent Fornell.  Be good for Agent Burley to meet some of your team.  And for Agent Gibbs to reacquaint himself.”

“No problem,” said Fornell, “I have Agent Sacks on standby to give them both a tour.”

Tony looked at Sacks’ sour expression and tried to guess what he’d done to deserve this punishment.

“I’ll catch up with you when I’ve finished giving my statement,” he said.  He wondered if this was how parents felt when leaving their children at the school gate for the first time.

“You all right, DiNotso?” asked Fornell when they were alone.  “You look a bit ragged round the edges.  Although I guess that’s to be expected with Jethro on your team.”

Tony opened his mouth to find out more about what it was like to work with Gibbs but decided that, although he liked Fornell, he should resist the temptation to gossip with the FBI.  He contented himself with a smile and began giving his statement.  When he caught up with his team he found that the visit was going well.  Gibbs was predictably silent but Stan was making up for it with his enthusiastic and intelligent questions.  Sacks was mellowing under the flattering attention and Tony thought that he would probably be pleased to see Burley at a joint crime scene.

As they sat in the car ready to return to NCIS, Gibbs said, “You thinking of jumping ship, Stan?”

“What?  No!  Why?”

“Seemed to be mighty excited about all the gizmos and stuff that the FBI have,” said Gibbs, “Thought you might be thinking of a career move.”

“No,” said Stan, “It was interesting, that’s all.”

“Don’t let him get to you, Stan,” said Tony.  “Talking to the other agents was what that was all about.  Building relationships.  _You_ did well.”  The emphasis on _you_ was subtle but he thought that Gibbs would notice.

“What we doing tomorrow?” asked Gibbs, “Looking at more case files?”

“No,” said Tony, “I think we’re done with that.” He decided there was no need to admit that it been a mistake.  “Agent Gibbs, you’re going to Abby’s lab for a couple of hours.  Stan, you’re going to Autopsy and then you’re both going to MTAC for orientation.”

“What you going to be doing?” asked Gibbs.

“I’ll go to the MTAC session.  Before that I’m going to speak to some other team leads.  See if there are any recent crime scenes that we can go practise on.”  Tony found himself holding his breath in anticipation of another comment but Gibbs simply nodded. 

Stan discovered the consequences of leaving his credentials behind when he got back to the Navy Yard.  He had half expected that Tony’s confirmation of his identity would be enough for him to be waved through so he was surprised that the guard insisted on a lengthy process of verification.  Stan hadn’t noticed that Tony had nodded to the guard in approval of the lengthy procedure.

Gibbs and Tony left the hapless Stan at the mercy of the zealous security team.

“What was that about?” asked Gibbs.  “Henry would have nodded him through.”

“You think Stan will ever forget his creds again?” replied Tony.  Gibbs replied by snorting in amusement.

Stan arrived in the squad room ten minutes later and went straight to his desk and retrieved his ID.  He had barely sat down when Tony said,

“We’ll call it a day.  No point starting anything else.  See you tomorrow.”

Stan and Gibbs looked at their watches and were surprised to see that it was only 16.00.  It seemed that Stan was about to insist he could stay later but Gibbs noticed that Tony looked pale and heavy-eyed so he shook his head at the junior agent.  He got up and went to stand by Tony’s desk,

“You leaving too?” he asked almost gently.

Tony looked up wryly.  “Still got reports to write.  I’ll be along later.”

“Paperwork can wait,” said Gibbs, “You look like crap.”

“Thank you for that,” said Tony, “Just what I wanted to hear.”

Gibbs shrugged, “I’ve had concussions before.  I know what they feel like.  I’m guessing you’re struggling to keep your eyes from crossing.  You won’t make a good job of the paperwork if you can’t see what you’re doing.”

Stan came to stand next to Gibbs and peered at Tony anxiously.  Tony huffed a laugh.  “OK, I give in.  Mother hens!”

NCISNCIS

The team went for lunch after their session in MTAC the next day.  Tony was grumbling,

“How is it that everyone else does the eye scanning thingy first time?”

“It’s easy,” said Stan.  “You mean you couldn’t do it?”

“It took me a while,” admitted Tony with a scowl.

“Did you find us a crime scene?” asked Gibbs deciding to change the subject.

“No,” said Tony.  “But I had another idea.”

“Yeah?” said Gibbs who was beginning to be apprehensive about Tony’s _ideas._

“Yeah,” replied Tony with a happy smile.  “I went for a run this morning along the River Trail in Anacostia.  It’s beautiful.  Very peaceful, tranquil.  Sort of makes you feel … spiritual.  Great start to the morning.”

“So we’re going for a run?” said Gibbs cautiously.

“What?  Oh, no.  But it gave me an idea.  Or to be more accurate, it reminded me of something Chris Pacci did when I was starting out.  He wanted to test my crime scene skills.”  Tony sighed reminiscently.

“And what was the idea?” asked Stan breaking into what seemed a happy reverie.

“Oh.  Yes.  People are very untidy you know.  They litter,” said Tony severely.

“Yes?” said Gibbs.

“So we’re going to bag and tag for litter.  Crime scene sketches and photos of untidy areas.  The whole nine yards.  It’ll be great.  And we’ll being doing Park Services a good turn as well.”  Tony looked at his agents, “You don’t seem impressed,” he commented.

“I’ve had lots of practice at crime scene techniques at FLETC,” said Stan.

“And I’ve been a NCIS agent for more than ten years,” said Gibbs.  “I’ve had real experience.”

“Well,” said Tony.  “Stan, I haven’t seen what you’re capable of.  Agent Gibbs, you’ve been in Europe for some months and I’m guessing you didn’t do much crime scene investigation there.”  Gibbs and Stan still looked glum.  Tony tried again, “It’s a beautiful day.  You’ll be out in the fresh air.  Who knows, you might enjoy it.”

“Picking up people’s trash,” said Stan sadly.

“You’ll be wearing gloves,” said Tony encouragingly.

“Won’t help with the smell,” said Gibbs.

Tony stood up, “Suck it up, gentlemen.  We’re doing this.  Come on, grab your gear!”

“What?” said Stan.

Tony had the grace to look sheepish.  “I’m trying out catchphrases,” he admitted.  “What do you think?”

“Hmph,” was Gibbs’ response as he went to _grab his gear._

NCISNCIS

“Any more _meet and greet_ sessions to come?” asked Gibbs as they walked along the river to the spot Tony had chosen.

“Metro PD and ATF,” said Tony, “and Legal.”

“Legal?” said Gibbs in an appalled tone.  “ _Legal?_ ”

“Sure,” said Tony.  “We should always work closely with Legal.”

“We should?” asked Stan.

“Yes,” said Tony as if it was obvious.  “No point doing the hard work of solving a case only for it get thrown out because we didn’t follow protocol.  Can’t do without Legal.  Isn’t that right, Agent Gibbs?”

“Unbelievable,” muttered Gibbs, “Unbelievable.  Involve Legal?”

“Is there a problem, Agent Gibbs?” asked Tony.

“Yes, there’s a problem,” said Gibbs heatedly.  “Lawyers just get in the way.  They stop us doing our job … they …”

“That’s not fair,” interrupted Tony.  “I’m sure NCIS lawyers are on our side and … what’s going on?”

Stan had been absorbed in trying to follow the brewing argument between Gibbs and Tony so was taken by surprise when they stopped their quarrelling to look out across the river.  The next thing he knew they were running towards the water.  Tony shouted, “Stan, call Harbour Patrol.  Tell them someone’s in trouble in the water!”

Stan ran after Tony and Gibbs and watched from the bank as they plunged into the water.  He looked out across the river and saw what looked like a teenaged boy waving desperately for help.

Tony swam fastest and got to the lad but couldn’t get close because he was in a panic and his arms were flailing wildly.

“I’m here to help,” said Tony calmly.  “Quiet down.  Let me come closer.”  He swam a little nearer but the boy continued to swing wildly and landed a blow on Tony’s head – it seemed that he didn’t seem to notice that assistance had arrived as he was too frightened to see anything but the water.  Tony hesitated for a second and dived down.  He was aware that Gibbs was just behind him and would see what was happening.   Tony broke the surface behind the boy, and remembering his lifeguard training, grabbed the boy under the arms,

“I’ve got you,” he said, “You’ll be all right.”

“Need any help?” asked Gibbs.

“We’re good,” said Tony.  “Swim with us.  Be ready if we get into trouble.”

Gibbs nodded and swam up a little closer.  The boy calmed down as he realised that he was held securely and that they were moving again.

“Were you on your own?” gasped Tony as he propelled them towards the river bank.  He was worried that the boy might have gone in after someone else.

“Yes,” came the reply, “I was trying to take a photo.  For a nature project.  But I fell in.”

“You’re OK now,” said Tony, “Be back on dry land soon.”

“Guess it means I failed the project,”

“Guess so,” said Gibbs.  “What’s your name, Son?”

“Gully, Sir.”

“Don’t call him Sir,” warned Tony.  “He doesn’t like it.”

“He doesn’t?” asked Gully.  “Why not?”

“Not sure,” said Tony.  “I think it’s one of his rules.”

By this time, they had come close enough to the bank that they could touch the bottom so Tony and Gibbs were able to walk in towing Gully.  Stan was waiting for them.

“Ambulance is on its way,” he said as he leant down to help.

Gibbs and Tony sat down a little breathlessly.

“Guess bagging and tagging is out for today,” said Gibbs.

Tony and Gibbs were watching Gully being loaded on to the ambulance when Ducky arrived.

“Ducky?” said Tony.  “What are you doing here?”  Even as he asked the question he turned towards Stan who tried to look innocent.

“I am coming,” said Ducky severely, “To make sure you and Jethro are going to hospital.”

“We don’t need to do that,” said Gibbs immediately.  “We weren’t in any trouble.”

“For heaven’s sake!” said Ducky.  “You do realise, do you not, that swimming in the Anacostia is not recommended.  The water is polluted.  You need to go to hospital for blood tests and for the appropriate antibiotics to be administered.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” said Tony determined not to have another visit to the hospital.

“Agent DiNozzo had to dive down, Dr Mallard,” said Stan helpfully.  “He may have swallowed some water.”

Tony glared at Stan.

“And there was a lot of splashing,” continued Stan undeterred, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Agent Gibbs swallowed some water as well.”

Gibbs took his turn at glaring at Stan.

“That settles it,” said Ducky, “I’m taking you to the hospital myself.  Come on.”

“We won’t all get into your Morgan,” said Gibbs.

“You finished the restoration?” said Tony with interest.

“Yes,” said Ducky with pride.  “She runs perfectly now.”

“How did you get the frame sorted?” asked Gibbs.

“Gentlemen, I find your interest in my car most gratifying but I have to say I also find it a touch suspicious.  Especially _your_ interest, Jethro.  You are not usually so ready to allow me to talk.  I suspect that you are both employing delaying tactics.  I can assure you that they will not work.  Come along.”

“But, Ducky,” said Tony solicitously, “We’re wet through.  We don’t want to get your car wet.  We’ll ruin the upholstery.”

Gibbs nodded in agreement.

“Thank you for your consideration, Anthony,” said Ducky.  “I have brought a NCIS car.  And I also brought your go-bags with me so you have something to change into.  Come.  Now!”

Gibbs and Tony admitted defeat and trailed along behind Ducky.

At the hospital, they found that the ER doctor was of one mind with Ducky.

“You will both need to have an immediate injection of antibiotics,” decreed Dr Wilder.  “And I will then prescribe a course of tablets.”

“But,” began the agents.

“Believe me, gentlemen,” said the doctor.  “If you knew what was in the waters of the Anacostia you would be _begging_ me for the injections.”

“All right, Doc,” said Tony caving first.  “Do your worst.”  He encountered twin medical glares from the doctors and hastened to correct himself.  “I mean, do your best.  Please.  And thank you.”

Gibbs submitted too and then watched as Drs Wilder and Mallard went into consultation.

“Agent DiNozzo,” said Dr Wilder, “Dr Mallard tells me you had a concussion recently.”  Tony tried to look as if he had forgotten.  “I would not have recommended you diving into the Anacostia until you had fully recovered but I think, as you have done so, that it would be best if you were not on your own tonight.  In case the concussion has been aggravated in any way.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest but Gibbs got there first.

“Give it up,” he advised.  “We won’t win.  Come back to mine again.”

“All right,” said Tony grumpily.  “The hotel’s doing well out of me.  Paying for a room and not using it.”

“A wise decision,” said Ducky restored to good humour now he had won.  “I will drive you back to your house, Jethro.  And collect you in the morning,” he added.  “Now wait here while I go and collect your prescriptions.”

Tony and Gibbs nodded glumly as the two doctors left.

“Thank you, Dr Wilder,” said Ducky when they were out of earshot.  “For agreeing to that subterfuge but I fear you are correct.  The noxious elements in the Anacostia will take revenge.  Anthony and Jethro will probably be throwing up all night and experiencing other forms of … gastric upheaval.  I surmise that it will be more comfortable for Anthony not to be in a hotel tonight if what we fear comes to pass.”

“And I don’t expect that you will be driving them into work tomorrow either,” said the ER doctor.

“Oh dear,” said Ducky.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude at Gibbs’ house ...

“

 “Your room’s ready,” said Gibbs as he and Tony walked into his house.  “Hadn’t got around to changing the sheets yet.”

“Thanks,” said Tony trying not to feel gratified at the reference to _his_ room.  “I could cook something if you want.  As you cooked for me last time.”

“It was just toast,” said Gibbs.  “And scrambled egg.”

“Still …” said Tony.

“ _Can_ you cook?” asked Gibbs.

“I can heat things up.  And I can make caramel popcorn.”

“Think I’ll pass,” said Gibbs.  “Don’t think there’s anything in the kitchen.  I planned on going shopping before Ducky kidnapped us.”

“Take out?” said Tony hopefully.  “Pizza?”

“Sure,” said Gibbs, “Menu’s on the fridge.”

“Great,” said Tony, “I’m starving.  What do you want?”

“Three meat,” said Gibbs.

“Garlic bread?”

Gibbs nodded.

“Soda?”

Gibbs glared.

“Right,” said Tony.  “Large three meat pizza; large sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese.  Two sides of garlic bread.  Large soda.  You want pie?”

Gibbs shook his head.

“I’ll have cherry pie,” decided Tony.

Gibbs stared at him.

“Hey, I’m starving,” said Tony defensively.

Gibbs sighed and went into the kitchen to make himself a coffee.  He wondered if he preferred DiNozzo with a concussion; at least he had gone silently to bed.

“You’ve got a black and white TV,” came Tony’s voice from Gibbs’ living room.

Gibbs joined him and got some more staring practice in.

“I was just saying,” said Tony.  “I haven’t seen a black and white TV since I was a kid.  Does it still work?  Oh, of course it works.  You wouldn’t have anything broken in your house.”

Gibbs continued to stare but found that Tony’s chatter was actually rather soothing.  Like white noise.

“You could probably make money on this,” said Tony.  “Vintage and retro gear is popular.  In fact, you’ve got the whole shabby chic thing going on here.”

Perhaps, Gibbs decided, white noise wasn’t so pleasant after all.  “Vintage?” he said dampeningly, “Retro?  _Shabby_?”

“Shabby _chic,”_ corrected Tony.  “It’s a look.  Very popular with young people.  You know, looking back to the 50s and 60s.”

“50s and 60s?” asked Gibbs.

Tony sensed some disapproval, “1960s, not 1860s,” he said as if this would make Gibbs feel better.

“I’m going to work on the boat,” decided Gibbs.

“OK, I’ll let you know when the food arrives,” said Tony deciding to ignore the finer shades of what was going on with Gibbs.  He switched the TV on and gazed happily at the John Wayne western that appeared.

The food arrived quickly: Tony suspected that the shop knew better than to delay delivering to Gibbs’ address.  He set it out on the kitchen table and then called down for him to come up.  A few minutes of sanding wood seemed to have restored to Gibbs to what passed for good humour and he set to with enthusiasm.

Tony was three quarters of the way through his pizza and had eaten the garlic bread when he noticed that Gibbs was flagging.  He paused mid-bite and was about to ask if his host was all right when Gibbs jumped to his feet and rushed out to the bathroom.  Tony’s acute hearing picked up what was happening and he began to understand what he had found in his go-bag.

Gibbs came back to the table after a few minutes looking paler than usual.

“You all right, Agent Gibbs?” he asked.

“Do I look all right?” replied Gibbs.

Tony decided that might be a rhetorical question and stayed silent.  Gibbs picked up his pizza but then dropped it.  Tony chewed his own pizza as silently as possible … and waited.  It wasn’t long before Gibbs made another trip to the bathroom.

“Have you looked in your go-bag?” Tony asked when Gibbs returned.

“No,” said Gibbs curtly.

“Ducky put a large size bottle of Gatorade in mine,” said Tony.

“That’s nice,” said Gibbs in a tone which suggested that it wasn’t.

Tony decided not to be deterred.  “It’s good for keeping hydrated when … when you’ve got what you’ve got,” he said.  “I guess Ducky knew this might happen.  The Anacostia hasn’t got a good reputation for cleanliness.  I heard that it’s got …”

The description of the woes of the Anacostia seemed too much for Gibbs who made another hasty exit.  When he got back Tony had thoughtfully poured him a glass of Gatorade and removed Gibbs’ pizza from the table.

“You should try and keep hydrated,” said Tony pointing to the glass.

As the evening progressed, Gibbs retreated to his couch clutching a bucket.  Tony would swap it for a clean bucket each time Gibbs threw up into it although as time went by there was little to bring up.  Tony had never before appreciated the different types of silence.  Gibbs was always stoically silent but this was a miserable silence that seemed out of character.  Tony periodically offered Gatorade or water or a hot water bottle or cold compress with Gibbs nodding or shaking his head as he considered each offer.

Gibbs had just enough energy to notice that Tony would disappear into the kitchen every few minutes where he suspected he was eating the rest of his pizza and the cherry pie.  Gibbs tried not to think about it too much as the thought of food was entirely unappealing at that moment.  He appreciated Tony eating in secret and not chattering too much.  Finally, however, he had to ask the question that was bothering him.

“Why aren’t you sick?” he demanded.  “Stan said you swallowed some of the damn water.”

“Stan was wrong,” said Tony.  “First rule of lifesaving.  Close your mouth when you go under water.  I didn’t swallow anything.”

“Neither did I,” said Gibbs, “But I’m throwing up.  Why aren’t you?”

“I’ve got a strong stomach?” suggested Tony.

Gibbs’ glare was still operating well.

“And the cholera, typhoid, diphtheria, Japanese encephalitis, yellow fever and hepatitis vaccinations might have helped,” added Tony.

“What?”

“NCIS is very thorough,” said Tony approvingly, “When I got sent to South East Asia and sub-Saharan Africa they made sure I got all the jabs I needed.  I guess some of them might have stopped an Anacostia bug in its tracks.”

“Why did you go there?” asked Gibbs.

“Tracking some stolen Navy equipment,” said Tony.  “I spent ten glorious days in places that tourists never reach.  And I have to say I never want to have grasshopper pizza again.”

Gibbs groaned and leaned over his bucket again.

“Sorry,” said Tony as he took the bucket away and quickly replaced it with a clean one.  “Had to come back by a tricky route as well.  Had to report in to the base at Guam.  Then go to the Philippines.  Then to Los Angeles before getting back to DC.”

“Why the weird route?”

“Had to be back in time for the Director’s meeting.  Although by then I was like Phileas Fogg.”

“What?”

“You know.  ‘Around the World in 80 Days’.  1956 Movie with David Niven.  Or there was the 2004 version with Steve Coogan and Jackie Chan.”

“What?” said Gibbs again.

“He went around the world in 80 days.”

“I got that bit,” said Gibbs.

“And he thought he’d lost until he realised he’d crossed the International Date Line and found that he’d done it after all because he gained a day … or lost a day.  Can’t remember which.”

“And it took you 80 days to get back from wherever you’d been?”

“No.  But I got muddled and lost a day.  Crossed too many time zones and forgot to adjust my watch.  And I’d travelled about 36 hours straight.  I got home.  Or rather to my hotel and the calendar on my phone beeped to let me know I was due at the Navy Yard in an hour.  Didn’t have time to change or shower or anything.”

A piece of puzzle dropped into place.  “That’s why you looked like hell the first day,” stated Gibbs.

“Yes, but at least I wasn’t late,” said Tony.

Gibbs nodded.  The brief conversation had worn him out and he closed his eyes.  A few minutes later Tony asked him if there was anything he needed.  He shook his head but Tony brought him some more water and Gatorade anyway.

“I’m heading up to bed,” Tony announced.  “Shout if you need anything.  You going to bed?”

“No, I always rack on the couch.”

“OK,” said Tony.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

It couldn’t be said that Gibbs slept well.  Each time he nearly dozed off he would feel nauseous again and wake up.  Finally, however, towards dawn, he did fall asleep and didn’t waken till he heard the patter of feet in his kitchen and the smell of toast.

Tony seemed to sense he was awake and poked his head through from the kitchen.

“Tea and toast?” he suggested.

Gibbs considered this proposal and assented cautiously.

“And I’ve made you a pick-me-up,” Tony announced.  “Our housekeeper used to make it for me if I was sick.”

“Consuela?” asked Gibbs.

“Good memory, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony approvingly.

“She did more than teach you Spanish then?”

“She was a treasure,” said Tony with a fond smile.  “Here, try it.”

Gibbs was reluctant to put anything back into his stomach but decided to risk it and was pleasantly surprised.  He couldn’t identify the ingredients but it seemed to warm and soothe him and make facing the world again a possibility.  “Thanks,” he said.  “You should patent that.”

“I couldn’t do that,” said Tony in mock horror.  “Can’t make money from Consuela’s remedy.  I swore an oath.”  He went back into the kitchen to collect the tea and toast.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” came Ducky’s voice at that moment as he entered Gibbs’ house cautiously.  “And how are you both this fine day?”

“Been better,” said Gibbs morosely.  “Don’t think that antibiotic jab worked.”

“Oh dear,” said Ducky, “I feared there might be consequences from your aquatic adventures.  How are you feeling now?”

“Better than I was,” admitted Gibbs.  “Stopped throwing up.”

“Excellent,” said Ducky.  “And have you been keeping yourself hydrated?  I took the liberty of placing some Gatorade in your go-bags.”

“Yes,” said Gibbs.

“And look on the bright side, without the injection you might have fared much worse.  Now, is Anthony upstairs?”

“I’m here,” said Tony striding in from the kitchen.  “Cup of tea, Ducky?  I’ve just made one for Agent Gibbs.”

Ducky stared at Tony.  “You seem very … sprightly this morning, Anthony.”

“Never been better, Ducky,” said Tony.

“Am I to understand that you suffered no ill effects from your immersion?” asked Ducky in surprise.

“Nothing at all,” said Tony proudly.  “The DiNozzo constitution is renowned.”

“I see,” said Ducky, “Well …”

“And he’s a walking pharmaceutical cocktail,” added Gibbs.

“What?” asked Ducky.

“Oh, yeah,” said Tony, “I recently had one or two …”

“One or two?” interrupted Gibbs.

“Several,” amended Tony, “Vaccinations.  I’ve had to do a lot of travelling.”

“I see,” said Ducky, “Well, that’s most fortunate.  For you, at any rate, Anthony.”

“Have you heard how Gully’s doing?” asked Tony.

“He is doing well,” said Ducky.  “He was kept in hospital overnight but I understand he was looking forward to a visit from his family.  It seems he has brothers and sisters named Tor, Scree, Ness and Flint.”

“What?” said Gibbs and Tony in unison.

“Gully’s parents are geologists and have a fascination with the natural world.  This is reflected in their choice of names for their children,” explained Ducky.

“Really?” said Tony.  “Poor kids.”

“No, not really,” said Ducky, “Although I have known some strange names be given to children.  I remember …”

“Ducky,” said Tony, “Will you give me a ride to the Navy Yard?  My car is still there.”

“Of course, I will be delighted to do so, Anthony.”

“What about me?” asked Gibbs.

“I would not recommend you going to work yet, Jethro,” said Ducky.  “You may feel weak …”

Gibbs’ glare was not weak.

“… and you should wait until we are sure your symptoms have ceased before coming into contact with others,” continued Ducky smoothly.

“I’ll be fine,” said Gibbs, “Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Jethro,” said Ducky crossly, “You should not be …”

“If you’re sure,” said Tony breaking into Ducky’s words.

“I’m sure,” said Gibbs.

“Excellent,” said Tony.  “That means I won’t have to cancel your day’s session with Legal.  They will be pleased.  They said they were looking forward to showing you all their procedures.  They’ve got a PowerPoint presentation waiting for you.”

As he drove with Ducky to the Navy Yard, Tony reflected that there was more than one way to get his own way with Gibbs.


	6. Chapter 6

Gibbs was standing a little forlornly in his kitchen later that day when he heard a knocking on his front door. 

“It’s open!” he shouted.

A moment later the door opened and DiNozzo walked through.

“You always leave it open?” he asked.

Gibbs shrugged, “Saves having to unlock it.”

“I guess,” said Tony.  “I brought you some food.  Knew you didn’t have anything to eat and figured you might be getting your appetite back by now.”

“Huh,” said Gibbs noncommittally, not wanting to admit that even coffee was not appealing at the moment.

“Fruit juice,” said Tony as he rummaged through his bag.  “Recommended for when you’re getting over … well, you know.  Bread.  Pots of Jell-O – didn’t know what flavour you like so there’s a bunch of different ones.  Some saltine crackers.  Ginger ale.  Anything else you need?”

“Any more of Consuela’s brew?” asked Gibbs, “it was good.”

Tony beamed, “I’ll make you some.  Won’t take a minute.”

Gibbs nibbled on a saltine cracker and eyed the Jell-O pots with disfavour.

“Try a green one,” suggested Tony.

“What?”

“You know – it’s a Marine colour.”

“You think Jell-O pots are a Marine thing?”

“You may have a point,” acknowledged Tony.  “I’ll get on to the Consuela concoction.”  He opened some of Gibbs’ cabinets and got the ingredients out.

“What you got Stan working on?” asked Gibbs.

“He’s with Abby.  He may never be the same again.  We’re doing some driving this afternoon – going out to Pax River.  Here’s your brew.”

Gibbs took it gratefully.  He thought about asking if Stan had gone on the visit to Legal but suspected that Tony wouldn’t tell when it was scheduled for.  It hadn’t taken long for Gibbs to realised that Tony had suckered him into staying off work and he thought it was possible that Tony wouldn’t tell him when the visit was actually going to take place for fear that Gibbs’ might continue to feel ‘too ill’ to return.

Tony looked as if he was inclined to stay and talk but Gibbs gave him no encouragement.

“I’ll be off then,” he said.  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.  If you’re going in to work.”

“I’ll be there,” said Gibbs obviously offended at the thought he would need an extra day off.  “You don’t need to give me a ride.”

“Your car’s at NCIS,” said Tony.  “It’s no problem.  Save you calling a cab.”

“Why you doing all this?” asked Gibbs.

“All what?”

“Being nice.  Looking after me.”

“You brought me here when I had the concussion,” said Tony.  “Was that you being _nice_?”

“That was simple,” said Gibbs.  “You’ve been cleaning up after me.  Feeding me.  Bringing me food in your lunch hour.  Now you’re going to drive me to work.  What’s going on?”

“Thought it was the sort of thing co-workers did for each other,” said Tony mildly.  “You know, look out for one another.”

“Hmph,” said Gibbs.  “Guess it goes with you always smiling.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.  Never seen you without a smile on your face.  Except that first day when your head was still on the other side of the world.  Guess your smile was too.  What’s with all the smiling?”

Tony felt as if he was poking the bear but put another smile on his face.  “Guess that’s Consuela’s fault.”

“You talk a lot about Consuela,” said Gibbs.  “You sure she was just the housekeeper?”

“She was a lot more than the housekeeper,” said Tony.

“Yeah?”

Tony decided to share some of his history thinking that perhaps this would be a way of letting Gibbs get to know him.  “My Mom died when I was eight years old,” he said.  “I got sent away to school when I was eleven.  Consuela was like my substitute Mom in those three years.  She did a lot more for me than teach me Spanish.  My Dad was … well, let’s just say he was busy.  Preoccupied.  Looking after a young child wasn’t really his bag so he left it to Consuela.”

“Sounds like a movie,” said Gibbs.

“Guess it does.  One of those Hallmark ones.  And Consuela loved her movies.  I owe her that as well.”

“She still around?”

“No.  She moved back to Spain.  I go visit sometimes.”

“Huh,” said Gibbs.  “So why’s your smiling down to her?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Tony.  “Funny story.  When I was a kid I’d be moody sometimes.  You know, sulky, bad-tempered and lazy.  Consuela told me that it took more muscles to frown than it did to smile.  And so it would take less of my energy to smile than to frown.  I believed her.”

“And is it true?” asked Gibbs.

Tony wondered if this meant that Gibbs thought it would be more efficient to start smiling.  “I asked Ducky,” he admitted.  “Got a very long and complicated answer.”  Gibbs tested out the energy theory by smiling.  “But the gist of it was that it’s impossible to tell.  Depends on how you smile, how you frown … what else you’re doing.  So, who knows?”

“But you still smile,” Gibbs pointed out.

“Yes,” said Tony.  “’Cos I learned something else.  If you smile people don’t realise they’ve hurt you.”

“So?”

“So, if they didn’t mean to hurt you, why let them know?  And if they did mean to hurt you?  Well, don’t let the bastards know they got to you.  So, win win.”

Gibbs tilted his head as he considered this reply.  And he found himself considering the reason why Tony was still smiling at him.  And he also wondered at how early an age had Tony learned the lesson that he shouldn’t let people know he’d been hurt.

“I’ll come by in the morning,” said Tony.  “If you’re not here, I’ll know you’ve gone already.”  And with that, he left.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs was waiting at his door when Tony arrived the next morning.  Unexpectedly, he found himself not wanting to hurt Tony.

“You want to give PT a miss?” asked Tony as they drove in.

“I’ll be OK,” said Gibbs predictably.

“Visit to Legal is after PT then,” said Tony.  “Stan and I will come too.”

“To make sure I behave?” asked Gibbs.

“Legal are busy,” said Tony.  “No need to make them repeat themselves.  Besides, Stan will enjoy it … or at least he’ll make it look as if he’s enjoying it.  He’ll take some of the heat off you.”

“You think Stan’s going to turn into an agent like you?” asked Gibbs.

“What?”

“They say that Probies often end up like their first Boss,” said Gibbs.

“Who was your first Boss?”

“Mike Franks.”

Tony took his eyes off the road briefly to look at Gibbs.  “I’ve heard of him,” he said.  “Explains a lot.”

“Franks was a good agent,” said Gibbs willing to defend him.

“Didn’t say he wasn’t,” said Tony.  “And no, I don’t think Stan’s going to turn out like me.  I think he’ll be his own man.  Why’d you ask?”

“He smiles a lot,” said Gibbs.

Tony smiled.  A little grimly and stayed silent.

To his surprise Gibbs found he almost enjoyed the visit to Legal.  They had the best coffee in the building – something that Gibbs took careful note of.  The PowerPoint display turned out to be a DiNozzo joke so Gibbs was spared having to stare at a computer screen and, best of all, the person chosen to lead the session was a no-nonsense former Marine who soon got the measure of how to talk to Gibbs.  All in all, DiNozzo was relieved that everything had gone so well even if he did feel as if he was spending his days herding cats.

As the day of the MCRT official launch was drawing near, Tony decided the team would spend the rest of the day on cold cases.  He didn’t really expect that a live case would drop into their laps on their first day so it would be wise to have something else for the team to do while they waited,

As they returned to the squad room after the session with Legal, Tony was surprised to see a young boy at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“No,” came the reply.

“Um … is your Daddy around somewhere?” Tony tried again.

“No.”

“Your Mommy?”

“No.”

“Then how did you get here?  You don’t have to be scared,” said Tony.

“I’m not scared.”

“At least you can say something else than ‘No’,” said Tony trying out a joke.

“What?”

“What’s your name, Son?” asked Gibbs coming a little closer and stooping to look the visitor in the eye.

“Jacob,” said the boy as he looked at Gibbs and seemed to see something he could trust.

“What you doing here, Jacob?” asked Gibbs.

“Waiting,” said Jacob.

“What you waiting for, Jacob?”

“I’m waiting for Granny. She’s gone up to see Grampa.”

“You want to wait with us?” asked Gibbs.  “Or I can take you to her.”

Jacob considered his options but seemed to think that Tony was someone beyond his experience and that it might be better to leave.  “Can you take me to her?  Please.”

“Sure,” said Gibbs.  “Where’d she go?”

“Up the stairs,” said Jacob.  “She went back to see Grampa Tom.”

Gibbs held out his hand.  “Come on, then.  Let’s go find her.”

Tony groaned as he realised that the Director’s grandson had just taken a dislike to him.  He wiped his brow which suddenly felt sweaty.

Gibbs was soon back.

“Director wants to see you,” he announced.

Tony managed to suppress the second groan.

“Found a job for you, Agent Gibbs,” he said.

“What?” asked Gibbs warily.

“Kid wrangling.  Anyone under fifteen is yours.  Unless you want them, Stan?”  Stan shook his head vigorously.  “There you go then.  You’re the official child whisperer on the team.”

“Fine with me,” said Gibbs.

“I’ll be back,” said Tony.  “I hope.  Cold cases on my desk.  Pick one each and start looking at it.”

As Tony ran up the stairs to the Director’s office he passed Mrs Morrow and Jacob who both gave him a cool stare.  Hoping his career as Agent in Charge hadn’t come to a premature end, Tony knocked on the Director’s door.

“Agent DiNozzo,” said Morrow as Tony walked in.

“I hear you’ve met my grandson.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Tony noncommittally.

“Good.  He’s shy.”

“Seemed to take to Agent Gibbs,” offered Tony.

“He did?  I’ll bear that in mind.  Sit down.  I wanted to speak with you.”

“Sir?” asked Tony as he sat down.

“How’s it going with the team?  You seemed a little anxious when I spoke with you before.”

“We’re getting there, Sir.  Beginning to think we need a burning building or locked room.”

“Why?”

“A burning building so that Agent Gibbs can rescue me.  Or I could rescue him.  You know, build the team spirit.  So far concussion checks and vomit bowls don’t seem to be doing the business.”

“And the locked room?” asked Morrow.

“So he might actually start speaking to me.”

“I see.  I can’t do anything about the burning building but I could arrange for the elevator to break with you both in it.”

Tony laughed.  “I wasn’t serious.  I don’t think there’s a quick fix to this.  And it’ll work out with Agent Gibbs.  He’s just different to me.  I think out loud – which I’m guessing is a foreign concept to him.  He accuses me of smiling too much.  And let’s face it, nobody is going to accuse Agent Gibbs of over-smiling!”

“No,” agreed Morrow.  “But if you want to change who’s on the team … you can.”

“No, I don’t want him to go.  I think we’ll work together well.  I may need to change my views on what working well means.  I favour campfires and discussions but somehow I don’t think that’s Gibbs’ preferred way of operating.  We’ll both have to adapt.”

“What about adding a fourth to the team?” asked Tom.  “You mentioned Tim McGee.”

“Can’t have two Probies on the team,” said Tony.  “Not at the moment.  Perhaps later, when I know how Stan is going to work out.  And I think three will be best for the moment.  We can all go out together and that means I can assess what both Gibbs and Stan do.  Get to know how they work.  And I’m not sure whether it wouldn’t be better to add a woman.  Someone with more experience.  But not yet.”

“If you’re sure,” said Tom.  “You’ve obviously thought about it.  Let me know what you want.  Like I said before, MCRT is high profile.  SecNav is taking an interest.  Wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show up at some point.”

“Thank you, Sir.  Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all.”

“Thank you.  And by the way, your grandson seems a good boy.”

“Thank you, Agent DiNozzo,” said the Director gravely.  “Tell me, do you have much experience of children?”

“No, Sir,” said Tony honestly.  “None at all.  In fact, I’ve just delegated all contact with children to Agent Gibbs!”

“Sounds good to me,” said the Director solemnly. “Sign of a good leader is using resources wisely!”

NCISNCIS

Gibbs arrived early to work the next day and went straight to the gym.  He stopped in surprise at the door when he saw Tony.  Tony was shooting hoops.  It wasn’t too surprising that Tony was playing basketball but normally he did running and jumping shots as he used up his energy.  This time, Tony was standing perfectly still and tossing the ball which went perfectly through the hoop each time and then bounced straight back to Tony who caught it and then threw it again.  It was like watching a metronome.  Tony was completely focussed and absorbed and apparently unaware of anyone watching.

Gibbs was fascinated by this view of a different DiNozzo but also concerned to see that the ever-present smile was missing.  He passed a hand through his hair as he considered what to do and it seemed that the movement caught Tony’s attention.  He turned and missed the ball returning to him.  He gazed at Gibbs, his eyes were dark with some painful emotion but as Gibbs watched his expression cleared and the smile appeared.

“Morning, Agent Gibbs,” he said cheerfully.

Gibbs nodded, aware that he had intruded on something.

“Where’s Stan?” he asked.

Tony looked at his watch in surprise when he realised that Stan was late.  At that moment his phone rang.

Gibbs heard only what Tony said.

“DiNozzo.  Stan … is that you?  … Where are you? … You’ve done what? … No … Listen to me … Stay where you are … Don’t do anything! … Do you hear what I say? … We’re on our way!”

“What?” asked Gibbs when Tony ended the call.

“Stan,” said Tony angrily.  “Decided to follow up on something he found in a cold case.  Come on!”

 


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re driving,” said Tony curtly as he tossed the car keys to Gibbs.

“I might make you carsick,” warned Gibbs.

“No, you won’t,” said Tony grimly.

Gibbs had a feeling that sheer determination would prevent DiNozzo from getting sick.

“Where we going?” he asked.

“Kingswell St NE, Ivy City,” said Tony.  He tried calling Stan’s cell but got no answer.

Gibbs waited until they were well on their way to Ivy City before asking for more details.

“What did Stan say?” he asked.

“His cold case yesterday was the murder of Brent Colville.  His body was found in a warehouse in Ivy City.  Stan says he lived in Mount Rainier when he worked at the Capitol and used to go home through Ivy City sometimes.  He remembered the warehouse.  There was something odd about what one of the witnesses said about what he saw.”

“Hinky,” commented Gibbs.

“What?”

“It’s an Abby word.”

“Oh, yeah.  I forgot.”

“So what was hinky?” asked Gibbs.

“The guy said that nobody had been in the building that day.  Stan thought that was unlikely.  Said whenever he went by the place was buzzing.”

“So?”

“He thought the guy was either lying or perhaps he’d made sure the place was empty.  Agents investigating thought the man was just a witness … Stan wondered if he might be more than that.”

“And?”

“He decided to go look.  He wanted to check that he was remembering the place right.  Seems when he got there he saw the witness guy.  And spoke to him.  Then he went into the warehouse.”

“And?”

“Got locked in.  Not sure if it was deliberate or an accident.  That’s when he decided to call in.”

Gibbs didn’t answer but stepped on the gas even harder.

“Slow down,” said Tony a few minutes later as they approached the area.  “Don’t want to spook anyone.”

Gibbs spared a moment to glare at him but refrained from commenting.  He drew the car to a gentle halt. 

“That’s Stan’s car,” Gibbs commented pointing to the vehicle in front.

“There’s a truck and a sedan in the carpark,” observed Tony.

“And a crane,” said Gibbs, pointing to where two men were standing talking to an operator.

“With a wrecking ball,” added Tony.

“Looks as if they’re going to start knocking down that section in the north west corner,” said Gibbs.

Tony got out his phone and called into Dispatch at NCIS to let them know they needed help. 

“We waiting?” asked Gibbs.

“Hell no,” said Tony.  “We’re going in,” said Tony.  “Calm and slow.  Like we’re looking for directions.” 

Gibbs nodded and the two began to walk into the warehouse’s yard.

“I told you,” shouted Tony.  “But would you listen?  Oh no!  You insisted this was the way to Lincoln Memorial.”

“Who are you?  My wife?” Gibbs snapped back.  “If you’d held the map the right way up we wouldn’t have got lost.”

“You were the one who spilled the coffee over the damn map!  How the hell am I supposed to read it if you’ve destroyed it?  This is not my fault!”

By this time, they had reached the crane and had attracted the attention of the three men.

“This is private land,” said one of them.  “You’ll have to go.”

“Sorry,” said Tony.  “I didn’t realise.”

“He’s not good at knowing his way around,” said Gibbs.

“We’re looking for the Lincoln Memorial,” said Tony with a smile.  “Can you help us?”

“You have to leave,” said the crane operator.  “It’s not safe to be here.  It’s a construction site.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Tony gazing around as if he was noticing his surroundings for the first time.

“What you building?” asked Gibbs.

“You have to go,” came the reply once more.

“OK,” said Tony.  “Geeze, I guess they were right when they said city folk aren’t too friendly.”

At that moment they heard a loud bang coming from nearby.

“What’s that?” asked Gibbs.  “Sounds like there’s someone in there.  Might be dangerous.  What with you about to knock that section down.  You should check.”

“We’ll do that,” said the crane operator with a smile.  “We’ll get right on it.  Thank you.  Lincoln Memorial is to the East.  Go back out and head East.  You can’t miss it.”

Tony and Gibbs nodded to each imperceptibly and drew their weapons.

“Federal Agents,” said Tony.  “Step out where we can see you.  Hands in the air.  And you, get out of the crane.  Slowly.”

“What’s going on?” asked the man who had spoken first.

“We have reason to believe you’ve imprisoned a Federal Agent,” said Gibbs.

“And given false directions to the Lincoln Memorial,” added Tony.  “Stan!” he shouted.

There was another bang from the building in reply.

“Gibbs, read them their rights.  And then cuff them,” he tossed his set of cuffs to Gibbs who caught them one handed.  Tony then kept his gun trained on them as Gibbs did what was necessary.

“You got them?” asked Gibbs when he had finished.

Tony nodded and Gibbs ran off to the building from where the noise had come.  He was faced with a corridor with multiple doors off.  He began to investigate each one.  After a couple of minutes fruitless searching he was joined by Tony.

“The cavalry has arrived,” explained Tony.  “Where have you looked so far?”

Gibbs indicated that he had taken one side of the corridor so Tony started checking the other side.  Gibbs discovered that the next door was locked and he called to Tony.

“Stan!” shouted Gibbs.

They heard a muffled shout, “Here!”

“You want to do it or shall I?” asked Tony.

“I’ll do it,” said Gibbs as he proceeded to kick the door down.

“Careful,” warned Tony as the door opened.  “This place doesn’t look as if it needs much knocking down.”

Gibbs nodded and they entered cautiously and found Stan barricaded behind some sturdy metal cabinets.

“What you doing there?” asked Gibbs.

“The goons shoved me behind here,” said Stan.  “Making sure I couldn’t get away.  They came back and took my cell too.  Don’t think they knew I’d called for help.”

“Not very bright of them,” commented Tony.  “If they had brought the roof down the cabinets might have protected you.  You all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Stan.  “Glad to see you though.”

“I bet you are,” said Tony mildly.

“They hurt you, Stan?” asked Gibbs with the air of someone who was willing to exact retribution if they had.

“No,” said Stan.  “They took me by surprise.  Didn’t seem much point in struggling.  Not with three of them.”

“OK,” said Tony.  “We’ll head back.  Agent Lawrence is here with his team.  It was their case originally.  We’ll hand it over to them.  You’ll need to give them a statement.”

Stan nodded as he hid his disappointment that the case wasn’t going to be theirs.

“Come on, Stan,” said Gibbs. 

“Stan,” said Tony.  “You OK to drive?”

“Yes, Agent DiNozzo,” said Stan.  “No problem.”

“Good,” said Tony.  “We’ll see you in the squad room.  I think we’ll skip PT this morning.  Reckon your heart’s probably had enough exercise.”  He smiled genially and left with Gibbs.

“That it?” asked Gibbs as they walked to the car.

Tony looked at him but didn’t reply.  The smile stayed firmly in place.

NCISNCIS

“Wow,” said Stan when he arrived back at NCIS.  “Guess that was my first case.  Hope they don’t all turn out like that.  It was just a lucky break, you know.  I might have been the only person who would have noticed the discrepancy …”

“Special Agent Burley,” said Tony.  “Are you expecting to be _praised_ for what just happened?”

“Well,” said Stan fairly.  “Not praised exactly.  Like I said, it was mostly luck.”

“Special Agent Burley,” said Tony.  “Let me make something absolutely clear to you.  If you ever, and I mean _ever_ , do something like that again you will be off this team faster than Agent Gibbs’ driving.  In fact, you are lucky that you are not already off the team.”

“But …” began Stan.

“You are a _Probationary_ agent.  You do not have the authority to go off and investigate crimes on your own.  You could have been killed today or you could have compromised an on-going investigation.”

“I didn’t mean …”

Tony continued relentlessly.  “Do you remember when I told you the importance of working as a team?”  Stan nodded.  “When I said that we all needed to keep each other in the loop, that we don’t go off on our own.  Did you think that perhaps that rule didn’t apply to you, Special Agent Burley?”

“No, Sir.  I just thought it would be OK to go look at the place.”

“You thought the _cold_ case was so urgent that it couldn’t wait for you to share your theories with the more experienced members of your team?”

“It didn’t take long,” protested Stan.

“You live on the other side of the city, Stan.  You had to drive _past_ NCIS to get to Ivy City.”

“I wanted to make sure I was thinking of the right place,” said Stan.

“I see.  So you went to visit the premises.  Check you were right?”

“Yes,” said Stan eagerly.

“And then you _accidentally_ started speaking to the witness?  What, did you think you’d got lost?  Were you asking for directions?”

“No,” said Stan resisting an impulse to look at his shoes.

“No,” said Tony, “You started interviewing him.  And don’t tell me that you didn’t arouse his suspicions because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t have ended up locked in a room that he was going to demolish!”

“No, Sir,” said Stan.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” asked Tony.

“I’m sorry, Sir.  Really sorry.  And it won’t happen again.  I promise,” said Stan.

He stole a look at Gibbs who gave him the merest hint of a smile of approval.

“I hope, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony.  “That your smile is approving Special Agent Burley’s apology and not his actions this morning.”

Gibbs hid his surprise that Tony had noticed the smile.  “Yes,” he replied.  “Stan was reckless.  He should have checked with us first.”

“Good,” said Tony.  “I’m glad we agree.  Special Agent Burley, I suggest you go see Agent Lawrence and give him your statement.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And then come back.  We’re going to do our crime scene practice this morning,” said Tony.

“We are?  But it’s raining,” said Stan unwisely.

“Crime doesn’t wait for the weather, Special Agent Burley,” said Tony coldly.  “That’s why NCIS provides all weather gear.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Although,” said Tony thoughtfully after looking through the window, “It is raining rather hard.  And it is cold.  Agent Gibbs, I think you said there was something you wanted to check with Dr Mallard?”

“Um, yes,” said Gibbs in surprise.

“Why don’t you do that?” said Tony.  “And I will join you.  There are some matters I need to go over with him as well.”

“And me?” asked Stan.

“Here is the map reference of the area I want you to investigate,” said Tony.  “Agent Gibbs and I will join you later.  I think the weather should have improved by then.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Stan sadly.

“Why are you still here, Special Agent Burley?” asked Tony loftily.

“I’m just going,” said Stan meekly.

As Gibbs and Tony went down in the elevator to Autopsy, Gibbs said,

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Tony simply grinned.  The elevator doors opened and as they walked out, he said, “By the way, good teamwork at the warehouse.  We argued well together, Agent Gibbs.”

“Just comes naturally, I guess,” shrugged Gibbs.

Tony laughed but he was pleased by the way he and Gibbs had worked together that day.

NCISNCIS

“Gentlemen,” said Ducky as Gibbs and Tony walked in.  “It is always a pleasure to see you but I was not expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting to come either, Ducky,” said Gibbs honestly.  “But I was told I needed to talk to you about something.”

“Indeed?” said Ducky.  “How intriguing.”

“Do me a favour, Ducky?” said Tony.

“Of course, Anthony.  How may I be of assistance?”

“Stan is with Agent Lawrence …”

“Ah,” said Ducky.  “Yes, I heard about his _adventure.”_

“Should have known you’d have heard all about it,” said Tony.

“And what is the favour?” asked Ducky.

“Make an excuse to bring him down and look him over,” said Tony.  “I don’t think he was hurt but be best to check.”

“I agree,” said Ducky sternly.  “NCIS agents show a marked propensity for underplaying injuries.  And, although Stanley is new to the role, I suspect that his co-workers have already displayed some expertise in that field.”

Tony and Gibbs stared back innocently.  Ducky chuckled,

“I will get on to it right away.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” said Tony.  “Now, Agent Gibbs, how about a coffee?  We’ve got some time to kill before that rain stops.”

Gibbs nodded amicably and they made their farewells.

NCISNCIS

Two hours later, the rain having stopped and the sun having come out, Gibbs and Tony went to join their hapless co-worker in Anacostia Park.  Stan was damp and rather miserable but had done an impressive amount of bagging and tagging and had started on the sketching.

“Special Agent Burley,” said Tony.  “Show me what you’ve done.  Agent Gibbs, do some shooting.  You and Special Agent Burley can switch around afterwards and we’ll compare what you’ve got.”

Stan hurried over to show Tony what he’d done while Gibbs smiled and swung into action with his camera.  After a few minutes, Tony got a phone call and dismissed Stan.  Stan sidled up to Gibbs,

“Agent Gibbs …”

“Stan?”

“When’s Agent DiNozzo going to stop calling me _Special Agent Burley?_ ”

Gibbs looked at Tony for a moment or two and then said thoughtfully, “Think it’s gonna be a while, Stan.”  He slapped Stan on the shoulder in a gesture of commiseration and then, spotting Tony walking towards them, added, “I’d get back to work if I was you, Stan.”

Stan looked up to see Tony approaching and emitted something like a yelp and scurried off to find his sketchbook.

“Having fun?” asked Gibbs drily as Tony walked up.

“A little,” admitted Tony.

“You ever do anything stupid when you were a Probie?” inquired Gibbs.

“Oh, yes,” said Tony reminiscently.  “You?”

“Oh, yes,” agreed Gibbs.

“What did Mike Franks do?” asked Tony curiously.

Gibbs grimaced.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Think Stan’s got off lightly.”

“That was Ducky,” said Tony holding up his phone, “Stan is fine.  He wasn’t hiding anything.”

“It was a good spot,” said Gibbs judiciously.  “Noticing the discrepancy in the statements.”

“Yes, it was,” agreed Tony.  “But it might be a while before I tell him that!  And it’s probably just as well that Stan made a good impression on Legal.  Not sure they’re going to approve what he did this morning.”  He looked towards Stan, “Special Agent Burley, I told you to sketch not to admire the scenery!”

Stan jumped and began sketching again.  After half an hour, Tony got Gibbs and Stan to swap jobs and then, after another thirty minutes, decided that Stan had suffered enough and called time.

“We’ll head back,” he announced.  “And spend the rest of the day looking at what you’ve both done.  And looking at how it should be done.”

“Should be done?” asked Gibbs.

“I did some sketching and shooting when I came running this morning,” said Tony.  “We’ll compare what you’ve both done to mine.”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

“I’m a crime scene expert, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony.  “It’s what I do.  And I’ve got more recent experience than either of you.”

Gibbs didn’t say anything but realised this was the first time that DiNozzo had said that he was better at something than his co-workers.  So far, he had allowed _them_ to shine, now he was claiming his own share of the limelight.

Back at NCIS, Tony mercifully allowed _Special Agent Burley_ to shower and change into dry clothing before they settled down to looking at the sketches and photos and looking at the bagged evidence.  Stan knew he had done well in the crime scene handling classes at FLETC but looking at what Gibbs and Tony had produced he realised that he had some way to go.  He wasn’t to know that Gibbs realised that _he_ also had ground to make up if he was to reach Tony’s standards.

“Hey,” said Tony as he divined Gibbs’ thoughts, “You’re better than me at hand-to-hand fighting and shooting, Agent Gibbs.”

“And child wrangling,” put in Stan.  He then looked aghast at the thought that he might have chosen a bad time to tease Tony.

“That’s right, Special Agent Burley.  But that’s why we’re a team.  I don’t need to be better than you both at everything.  We need to work as a team.  You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Stan humbly.

“Good,” said Tony.  “Why don’t you go and get us some coffee?  My treat.”

Stan nodded and hastened to obey.  It was only on his way to the coffee shop that he realised he’d forgotten to ask what Gibbs and Tony wanted.  He was about to go back when he realised that perhaps this was a test.  Having worked with the team for a number of days he should by now know what they wanted.

“Thanks, Stan,” said Gibbs when Stan returned and handed him his drink.  Gibbs took a sip of his strong black coffee and raised his cup in salute.

Stan breathed a sigh of relief but then turned to the more difficult customer.  In some ways, Tony should have been the easier to please but his tastes varied unlike Gibbs who always wanted strong and black.  Stan had taken some time to remember what Tony had drunk over recent days and to try to establish a pattern.  It was only as he stood in line at the coffee shop that the answer had come to him and he had ordered the drink.

Now he was less sure about his choice and watched anxiously as Tony took a sip.

“Hmm,” said Tony appreciatively.  “Mocha with hazelnut creamer, three sugars and …”

“A grinding of cinnamon,” said Stan.

“How did you know?” asked Tony.

“Melissa was the barista today,” said Stan, “I remembered you saying that was her specialty.”

“Well done,” said Tony.  “Good observation skills are essential for a NCIS agent.”

Stan blushed with pleasure.

“Thanks, Stan,” said Tony raising his cup in a similar gesture to the one Gibbs had used earlier.

Stan smiled as if he’d just won the lottery.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that this story messes with canon … and does so again with this take on a famous episode.

The final days of the MCRT acclimation went smoothly.  Tony was happy with the team’s standards; the truck was fully stocked; the sister Federal Agencies and local police departments had been visited; Navy Base addresses had been programed into the Satnav; NCIS departments had been liaised with and favourite sandwiches memorised.  As the team gathered on Friday they knew that they would ‘go live’ after the weekend.

Tony sat at his desk before the daily PT session wondering if he should deliver some sort of speech to inspire the team.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t get the Tommy Lee Jones speech from The Fugitive out of his head and he didn’t think that was entirely suitable.  Then he thought of the stirring scenes in the Henry V movies he had seen:           

_Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; or close the wall up with our English dead._

But it seemed unduly pessimistic to talk about dying before they’d even been out into the field and, although he had British ancestry, it might not be tactful to talk about _English_ dead.  He didn’t think Shakespeare would approve of changing English to American because it wouldn’t scan … and did Shakespeare know about America?  He sighed.

“Something wrong, Sir?” asked Stan.

“No, everything’s fine, Stan,” replied Tony.  “Just thinking.”

“There’s a letter for you,” said Stan.  “Came in the mail.”

Tony stared at Stan.

“Of course, it did,” continued Stan.  “What I was going to say is that it’s marked ‘Private and Confidential’ so the Mail Room didn’t open it.”

“Thanks, Stan.”

Stan hovered for a moment but then went back to his desk. 

“Morning,” said Gibbs as he arrived.  He stopped by Tony’s desk.  “You in court again?”

“What?” asked Tony a little absently.  He was focussing on his letter.

“Blazer, tie,” said Gibbs pointing to Tony’s smarter than usual clothes.

“Oh, no,” said Tony.  “No court.  Actually I wanted to ask you about …  what!”

Stan’s head jerked up to see what had made Tony cry out.  He saw Gibbs staring in horror as Tony looked at an open envelope with fine powder wafting over him.  Time seemed to stand still but then they swung into action.

Gibbs threw Tony a bottle of water and then jumped on the desk to alert the floor that they had opened a suspicious envelope.  Stan phoned Security to let them know that the floor was being evacuated.  Tony tipped the water over his head and they all trooped down to the decontamination area.

“What was in the envelope?” asked Stan as he stood in the shower.

“Talcum powder … I hope,” said Tony.

“Or anthrax,” suggested Gibbs.

Stan scrubbed a bit harder but tried to look on the bright side.  “I’ve had an injection against that.”

“Me too,” said Tony.  “You, Agent Gibbs?”

“Yeah,” said Gibbs.

“That’s good then, isn’t it?” said Stan.

“Sure,” said Tony.  “It’s good news to know someone cares enough about me to send anthrax through the mail.  I’d prefer candy.”

“Might have been a joke,” said Stan.

“Anything unusual about the envelope?” asked Gibbs.

“Had a SWAK on the back,” said Stan.

“What’s a SWAK?” asked Gibbs.

There was a moment’s silence as Tony and Stan considered this evidence of a gap in Gibbs’ knowledge.

“Sealed with a kiss,” explained Tony.  “Imprint of lips.”

“Sent by a woman then?” said Stan.

“Or that’s what we’re meant to think,” said Gibbs.  “You got any pissed off girlfriends out there?”

“Not pissed off enough to send me anthrax,” said Tony.  “Besides, where do you get that stuff from?”

“Don’t ask me,” said Gibbs, “My exes come after me with golf clubs and divorce lawyers not chemical weapons.”

Tony decided to shelve thinking about this insight into Gibbs’ private life for a more opportune time.  “We’ll get into it once we’re out of here,” he said.

NCISNCIS

“You’re not going back to work, Anthony,” said Ducky firmly as the three agents assembled in Autopsy.  “You are going to Bethesda to be tested for investigation into any effects of that powder.”

“OK,” said Tony who had learned not to argue with Ducky about medical matters.  “Stan and Agent Gibbs will run the investigation until I get back.  I won’t be long.”

Ducky remained diplomatically silent about the prospect of an early return and was saved from replying by the arrival of the team from Bethesda.

“Who opened the envelope?” asked one of the technicians.

“That was me,” admitted Tony.

“You have to come with us.”

“I know,” said Tony wearily.

“Did you breathe in any of the powder?”

“I don’t know.  I might have done,” admitted Tony.

“Was anyone else close by when you opened the letter?”

“Agent Gibbs was,” said Stan.

Gibbs glared at him but Stan continued,

“And he might have breathed some in.  He was standing right next to Agent DiNozzo.”

“You need to come with us as well,” said the technician.

“I’m fine,” protested Gibbs.

“Jethro, you should go too,” said Ducky.  “Your immune system may still be recovering from the aftereffects of your swim in the Anacostia.”

“Ducky, that’s stupid,” said Gibbs.  “You know that I’m perfectly fit now.”

“Nevertheless,” said Ducky, “You should go too.”  He could see that Gibbs still wanted to argue and he drew closer and said softly, “The Director’s orders.  The letter was specifically addressed to Anthony; if this is a serious attack he may in danger from another assault.  Director Morrow wants you with him.”

Gibbs nodded reluctantly.

“Who’s going to be investigating?” asked Tony.  “Stan can’t do it on his own.”

The Autopsy phone rang at that moment.  Ducky answered it and put it on speaker.

“The Director,” he said.

“I’ve called in the FBI,” came Morrow’s voice.  “Agent Fornell will be assisting but I’m taking charge of the investigation.  Agent Burley will work with me once he has been cleared.  Now, gentlemen, I suggest that you go to Bethesda immediately.  And I expect you both to cooperate with the hospital staff.  Understood?”  The phone went dead as he ended the call.

“Chin up,” said Ducky.  “Worse things happen at sea.”

“Not very reassuring seeing as we work for the Navy,” said Tony gloomily.  “OK, let’s get this over with.”

Stan watched as his co-workers left for Bethesda.

“I suggest you remain down here,” said Ducky kindly, “until your test results come back.  You can use my computer if the Director has any assignment for you.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Stan as he scanned Autopsy a little anxiously.

“I am doing paperwork this morning,” said Ducky as he realised the reason for Stan’s unease.  “I do not have any autopsies to perform.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that,” said Stan somewhat unconvincingly.

Ducky cast him a benevolent look over the rims of his glasses, “Of course not,” he agreed.

Stan sat down in front of one of the computers and began to log on but it was clear that, even with the threat of impending autopsies removed, there was something on his mind.  Ducky found that his fidgeting was distracting so finally said,

“Is there anything on your mind, Stanley?  I am sure that Agent DiNozzo and Agent Gibbs are in the best of hands.  There is nothing you can do.”

“I know, Doctor.  And I’m not worried about that.  I mean, I am.  Of course I am.  I want them both to be OK.”

“So what is on your mind?”

“Doctor, do you think forming the MCRT was a good idea?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean, I know that other forces and agencies have them.  And SecNav is in favour.  And I’m sure Agents DiNozzo and Gibbs are excellent at their job but …”

“But what?”

“It just seems that we’re _really_ unlucky.  I mean, Agent DiNozzo has already had a concussion.  He and Agent Gibbs had to rescue that kid and then Agent Gibbs got sick.  And now they’re both in Bethesda because they may have been poisoned.  And we haven’t officially started yet!”

“Ah,” said Ducky heavily.  “You may have a point, Stanley.  You may have a point.”

NCISNCIS

“Great,” muttered Tony.  “My favourite thing to do.  Peeing in a cup.  And today started off so well.”

He emerged from the curtained off cubicle to find Gibbs waiting morosely with his own urine sample.

“Your urine’s too dark,” Tony informed Gibbs.  “Probably all that coffee you drink.  Or perhaps Ducky was right and you’re not over your bug.”

Gibbs glared at Tony.  Nobody had ever had the temerity to challenge the colour of his urine and for a brief moment he thought he might not stand in the way of any impending assault on DiNozzo.

“Good observational skills,” he said instead.  “Although some people might think your urine is too pale.  No _body_ to it.”

“I hate to interrupt,” came another voice.  “I’m Commander Brad Pitt.  Welcome to Bethesda.  I’ll be responsible for your care while you’re with us.  This is Lieutenant Emma Ingham, she’ll be your nurse for today.”

Gibbs suppressed a groan.  Even _he_ had heard of Brad Pitt and could guess that movie mad Tony would have a field day.

“Commander,” he acknowledged, hoping to head Tony off.  “What’s the procedure?”

“You’ll need to stay in our isolation chamber at least until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Can we get phones in here?” asked Tony.  “We may be able to help with the investigation of the case.  Assuming that your tests aren’t going to be too invasive?”  He smiled a little nervously.

Gibbs was surprised, but pleased, that Tony was willing to pass up on teasing Brad or flirting with the lieutenant.

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” said Brad.  “We’ll aim to make your stay as pleasant as possible.”

“Thank you,” said Tony.  “Say, how do you manage with two jobs?  I mean being a Navy doctor and an A list movie star.  Guess the Navy must be accommodating.  And Emma, you have pretty eyes.  I hope we get to see you without the mask on!”

Brad and Emma chuckled and Gibbs sighed.

The blue lights of the isolation chamber were disconcerting.  For people trying not to be anxious it didn’t help that everything looked ‘off’: it was impossible to tell if one of the occupants looked flushed or pale as the blue light drained all colour away.  Tony tried to console himself with the thought that Brad or Emma were constantly coming to check a temperature, heart rate or oxygen level; he had to think that they were not relying on how their patients _looked_ to gauge their well-being.

By sheer determination, Gibbs refrained from pacing up and down but he hated being so confined and so caffeine deprived.  It wasn’t that they weren’t allowed coffee but rather that it wasn’t being supplied in the quantity and quality he needed.  He wished that Ducky hadn’t made him come with DiNozzo as a possible fellow victim: he was happy to be on guard duty but he wished he could be doing it from outside.

It was some hours before a phone was delivered.  The agents had not complained too much as they didn’t want potentially to distract their co-workers from their investigation but the state of unknowing chafed on them as much as their confinement.

“Here you are, Agent DiNozzo,” said Emma when she brought in the phone at last.

“Tony,” he corrected her.

“Tony,” she repeated.  “I just want to take your temperature.  Then you can phone your Boss.”

“All right, Nurse Emma,” he agreed as he hid his impatience.

He waited until Gibbs had also had his temperature taken and phoned Stan.

“What’s happening, Stan?” he asked as he put the phone on speaker.

“Agent DiNozzo!  How are you?” asked Stan.  “And Agent Gibbs?”

“We’re fine.  What’s going on?”

“Agent DiNozzo, this is Director Morrow,” came Morrow’s voice.  “We’ve had a breakthrough.  What do you remember about Sarah Lowell?”

“Lowell?” asked Tony.  “Nothing.  Who is she?”

“She the one who did this?” asked Gibbs.

“Three years ago,” said the Director.  “Sarah Lowell claimed she was raped by students from Annapolis.”

“I remember now,” said Tony.  “It was my last case before I was re-assigned.  I spoke to her once.  And her Mother … um …”

“Hanna Lowell,” supplied the Director.

“Hanna.  That’s right.  She was distraught.  Well, they both were but Mrs Lowell was enraged by it all as well.”

“What else do you remember?” asked Morrow.

“Not much.  I couldn’t get much out of her and I flew out before the case was closed.  Agent Pacci was getting a Probie – Cassie Yates – and he decided it would be best to let her continue with the interviews.  What has this got to do with what happened?”

“Miss Scuito examined the letter.  I’m guessing you didn’t have time to read it?”

“No, Sir.”

“The writer of the letter said she sent it because she wants the case of Sarah Lowell to be re-examined,” said Tom.  “It appears that she remembered your name as being one of the original investigators.”

“Sir,” said Tony urgently.  “She may have sent …”

“Agent Yates has not received any suspicious mail,” said the Director.  “We have her under guard and we’re checking her office.  Agent Pacci is on leave in Europe at the moment and we have been unable to trace him.  There is nothing untoward at his home or at his office.  We think there was just one letter sent.  We are trying to get hold of Pacci but, if we can’t find him, we can expect that she couldn’t find him either.”

“But …” began Tony.

“Doctor Mallard is of the opinion that she has only sent one letter.  We believe that it was sent by Hanna Lowell and, as she is based in DC and wants a Washington crime re-opened, it seems likely that she was targeting the Navy Yard specifically,” replied the Director.

“Director,” cut in Gibbs, “Do you know what the powder was in the envelope?”

The Director hesitated, “There are a number of possibilities which are being investigated.  Too early for any confirmation.”

“Director,” said Tony.  “We were talking about this earlier.  How could Hanna Lowell get hold of any chemical weapon?  It must be a hoax, mustn’t it?”

“Hanna Lowell is the head of Lowell Pharmaceuticals,” said the Director.  “Unfortunately, it seems that getting hold of some toxic substance would be easy for her.”

“What happens now?” asked Gibbs.

“We are getting a search warrant for the Lowell home and office.  When we have it Agent Fornell and I will be going to her office.  Agent Burley will accompany us if we get confirmation that he is clear.”

“Director,” said Tony.  “I’m guessing that this isn’t your version of me and Gibbs in the locked room, is it?”

“No,” said the Director regretfully, “I’m afraid not.  The threat is real.  Hang in there, gentlemen.  Hopefully this will be over soon.”  He ended the call.

“The Director going out into the field,” said Tony thoughtfully.  “I’d give something to see that.”

“It’s a threat to NCIS,” said Gibbs.  “He takes that personally.  He’s a good Director.”

“Yeah,” said Tony, He wiped his forehead.

“You OK?” asked Gibbs.  Like Tony, he was hypervigilant for any signs of illness.

“It’s stuffy in here,” said Tony.  “I’m a bit warm.  Might be a side-effect from those … what were those pills they gave us?”

“Prophylaxis.”

“Oh yeah.  I’m sure there must be a joke I could make about that,” said Tony.

“Save your energy,” said Gibbs.

“Good idea, Agent Gibbs.”

“What you remember about the Lowell case?”

“Not much.  I only did a couple of the interviews.  But it wasn’t a good idea for a youngish man to be interviewing a rape victim, however sympathetic I was.  And the Mother, well, I think she hated all police officers and agents on principle.  And like I said, I was about to be re-assigned.  Chris didn’t want me to get too involved, it might have made things complicated or held up my posting.”

“Couldn’t wait to get rid of you, eh?” joked Gibbs.

“Ha ha,” said Tony.  “No.  Well, I don’t think so.  You know Pacci, don’t you?  He’s just that kind of guy – thoughtful and considerate.  He was a great introduction to NCIS.”

“Yes,” agreed Gibbs.  “He’s one of the good guys.  I’m going to ask for some more coffee.  You want some?”

“No.  I could go for some tea, though.  Do you think they have lemon tea?  Consuela used to make it for me.”

“I’ll ask,” said Gibbs looking at Tony in concern and cursing the blue lights which confused things so much.

While they were waiting for their drinks to arrive, Gibbs remembered something he wanted to clear up.  “What did you mean when you asked the Director if this was his version of you and me in a locked room?  What was that about?”

“Oh,” said Tony with a slight laugh.  “Funny story.  Actually, not so funny.  It was something I said to the Director.  About how you and I weren’t so good at talking to each other.  Which is unusual for me.  And I was wondering if I needed to take drastic action.”

“Why do you want to talk?” asked Gibbs in honest surprise.

The bewilderment on Gibbs’ face was matched almost exactly by that on Tony’s.  “It’s how people get to know each other.  Scratch that, it’s how _most_ people get to know one another.  How do _you_ get to know someone?”

“It takes time,” said Gibbs stiffly.  “Actions speak louder than words.”

Tony sighed.  “Yeah, I’ve figured that out now.”

“So you don’t want to lock us in a room anymore?”

“No.  We’re good.  I reckon that we’re different types of people but when it comes to the crunch we work well together.  And that’s what matters.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Gibbs.

“I was up early this morning,” announced Tony.  “And the guests in the room next to me were having a party.  I didn’t get much sleep.  I’m going to get a few zzzs if that’s all right with you?”

“Sure.”

“Wake me up if you need me,” said Tony as he lay down on his bed.

A few minutes later, Brad and Emma came into the chamber.  They saw that Tony was asleep so came to Gibbs first.

“Agent Gibbs,” said Brad.  “You’ll be glad to know that your tests all came back clear.  You can leave if you wish.”

“It was a hoax?” asked Gibbs.

“No,” said Brad sadly.  “The white powder contained a form of plague.”

“Plague?” said Gibbs incredulously.

“Yes.  Unfortunately, Agent DiNozzo has been infected.  We will begin treatment immediately but we believe it is a strain which has been modified to resist antibiotics and other standard treatments.  Tony will have to battle the disease on the same basis as his counterparts from centuries ago.  Now, we must begin his treatment.  As I said, you can go.”

“Doc,” said Gibbs urgently.  “I have to stay.  The Director ordered me to stay and protect him.”

“You can do that from outside, Agent Gibbs.  The danger of infection is too great for you to remain.”

“I’m on protection duty,” said Gibbs firmly, “I prefer to do it from in here.  Tell Tony that we’re both infected.  Then I won’t have to explain why I’m really staying.”

Brad looked unconvinced but nodded assent.  Gibbs himself wasn’t sure why he felt he had to stay.  The Doctor was right, he could protect Tony from outside just as well but somehow, he felt the need to stay close.

“Agent DiNozzo … Tony,” said Brad gently.  “Wake up for me, will you?”

Tony’s eyes flew open.  “Time to go?” he said hopefully.

“’Fraid not,” said Brad.  “I want to start an IV drip.”

Tony cocked his head curiously.  “Something I wanted to ask you, Doc.”

“Go on.”

“I remembered your name.  I mean I remembered that I knew a Brad Pitt before there was a movie star called that.  A Michigan footballer.  Played against me in a game.”

“Good God,” said Brad, pausing in his insertion of the IV, “I remember.  An Anthony DiNozzo – played for Ohio State.  God, I’m sorry.”

“What for?” asked Gibbs.

“Commander Brad Pitt,” said Tony, “Broke my leg.  Tell me, Doctor, were you already intending to do into medicine or did I kick-start your career?”

“I was already going into medicine,” said Brad.  “And you know it was an accident?”

“Sure,” said Tony easily.  “Don’t sweat it.  According to our Medical Examiner, ‘Worse things happen at sea’.”

“Not very reassuring,” said Brad, “Seeing as we both work for the Navy.”

“That’s what I said,” said Tony, “You see, great minds think alike.”  Brad nodded.  “So, Brad,” continued Tony, “I’m guessing the test results came back?”  Brad nodded again.  “So, what’ve I got?”

“Plague,” said Brad.  “Pneumonic plague.”

“Pneumonic plague?” said Tony.  “I’m guessing that’s not the soft, fluffy, gentle version?  Not the G or PG rating?”

“No,” said Brad.  “I’m afraid it’s not.”

Gibbs gazed at Tony and saw him go perfectly still and his face go blank.  It was much as he had been when Gibbs surprised him shooting hoops in the gym.  His eyes were dark and serious but that was the only sign he had just received terrifying news.  Gibbs knew he had been right to say that he got to know people through their actions rather than their words and because of that he now knew that Anthony DiNozzo was a person of extraordinary courage.


	9. Chapter 9

“Well,” said Tony when the IV had been inserted and he was alone with Gibbs.  “This is a bummer.”

“Yeah.  Really hope that worse things don’t happen at sea,” said Gibbs drily.

“Agent Gibbs, did you just make a joke?” asked Tony.

Gibbs shrugged modestly.

“I must be sicker than I thought,” said Tony worriedly.  “How do you feel?”

“OK, so far,” said Gibbs.  “Must be taking longer to affect me.”

“Perhaps dark urine is a good thing after all,” mused Tony.  “Have to ask Ducky.  He’ll know.”

“Bound to,” said Gibbs.

“Still, I guess it means that it was worth it,” said Tony.

“What was worth what?” asked Gibbs.

“My clothes being burned.  I guess they are being burned?”

“Reckon so,” said Gibbs.  “What do you mean?”

“I’d be pretty pissed if my Zegna blazer was incinerated for a false alarm,” explained Tony.

“You would?  I’m more pissed about being infected with plague.  The clothes don’t matter much.”

“With all due respect,” said Tony.  “Your clothes aren’t much to write home about.  Mine, on the other hand … well, let’s just say I don’t shop at Sears.”

Gibbs remembered an earlier conversation.  “When you were opening that letter you were about to ask me something.  Seemed to have a connection to your clothes.”

“Oh yeah,” said Tony.  “I was going to ask you a favour.”

“Go on,” said Gibbs.

“You can say no,” said Tony.

“I know,” said Gibbs emphatically.

“I got the idea when I saw your basement,” said Tony.  “You know I’m staying in the hotel at the moment?”

“Yes,” said Gibbs cautiously, wondering if Tony was going to propose coming to live in the basement.

“I’m looking for somewhere to live.”

“Y-e-s,” said Gibbs even more warily.

“And when I saw what you doing in your basement.  You know, the wood working.  Well, I thought you might a good person to ask.”

“Ask what?” asked Gibbs.

“I’ve got my eye on an apartment but I’ve never bought a place before.  I figured you’d be a good person to bring along.  You know, you’d spot the flaws to the place.  I’d only notice where the nearest takeout is and what the parking is like but I guess there’s more to an apartment than that.”

“Just a little,” acknowledged Gibbs.

“So what do you think?” asked Tony.  “Would you come look with me?”

“Sure,” said Gibbs, thinking that it might be a while before Tony was fit enough to go apartment hunting.  “So, why the smart clothes?”

“Oh.  I was going to a viewing later today.  Thought going smart would make the vendor think I was serious.  And that I could afford the mortgage.”

“I see.”

“That’s gone down the tubes now,” said Tony gloomily.  “Don’t think I’ll be showing up today.  Although the place has been on the realtor’s books for weeks.  It’s not real popular.”

“Has it got rats?” asked Gibbs.

“No.  Why would you think that?”

“Rats put buyers off,” said Gibbs.  “Thought it might have rats.”

“No, it’s not that,” said Tony.  “Although,” he added cautiously, “It might just be that I haven’t seen them, they might be lying in wait, biding their time.  See, this is why I need to bring an expert with me.  You’ll think of these things.”

“I’ll come with you,” promised Gibbs.  “And look for rats, termites, dry rot, wet rot, subsidence, rusting pipes …”

“Stop,” said Tony.  “Sick man here, remember.  I don’t need any more stress.  I’m going to worry now about my queen size bed crashing through the rotten floorboards.”

“Have to get a twin then,” said Gibbs unsympathetically.

Tony coughed.  Gibbs stiffened but, before he could say anything, Brad walked in calmly.

“Why don’t you get into bed properly, Tony?” he suggested.  “You should rest.”

Tony squinted at the clock.  “It’s only 15.35.  How old am I, 5?  It’s too early to go to bed.”

“You were up early,” said Gibbs.  “And you said you didn’t get much sleep.  No wonder you’re tired.”

Tony still looked stubborn.

“It’s OK,” added Gibbs.  “I won’t tell Stan that you went to bed in the middle of the day.

For a moment or two it looked as if Tony would continue to resist but another cough seemed to convince him and he reluctantly lay down.  Brad cast a grateful look at Gibbs.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs tried to read the book at Nurse Emma had kindly found for him but he found that he couldn’t concentrate because he was fixated on listening to the sound of Tony’s increasingly raspy breathing and more frequent coughs.  He was almost grateful when the phone rang but the caller gave him a dilemma.

“I’ll find out,” he said.  “Yes.  I’ll let you know.”

He walked over to Tony’s bed where Tony was tossing and turning feverishly.

“Hey,” said Gibbs.

Tony opened his eyes reluctantly, “What?” he said groggily.

“HR want to know.  Is there anyone you want us to contact for you?”

“What?” repeated Tony.

“While you’re sick,” said Gibbs.  “Is there anyone you want to come see you?”

“I’m not dying,” said Tony firmly.  “I refuse to go down to the plague.  I don’t want my tombstone to read, ‘Anthony DiNozzo, died from a medieval disease.’”

“I didn’t say you were dying,” said Gibbs gently.  “We just wanted to know if there’s anyone we should let know that you’re in the hospital.  Your Dad?”

This produced another cough.  “Don’t tell my Father,” he gasped.  “He wouldn’t come anyway.”

“Is he ill?” asked Gibbs thinking this might be the reason for a no-show.

“No,” said Tony.  “He’d be too busy to come.”

“Too busy?” asked Gibbs wondering if he had misheard.

“Never been high on his list of priorities,” said Tony.  “Don’t waste your time.  Not worth the price of a phone call.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” said Tony.

“Nobody else?  No girl friend?”

“No.”

“Boy friend?”

Tony glared at Gibbs.  “No.  No ‘significant other’.  Not anymore.”  His sigh turned into another fit of coughing and Gibbs helped him to sit up until it had passed.  As he helped Tony lie back down Gibbs noticed that his pyjamas were spotted with blood.  He raised a hand to summon help.

While Brad and Emma were attending to Tony, Gibbs saw that Ducky had arrived and was standing outside.  Gibbs took his first steps outside the chamber since they had both arrived.

“How is he, Jethro?” asked Ducky.

“You tell me,” said Gibbs.  “What are his chances?”

“With antibiotics not being effective, I fear that in some ways he has the same chance as victims from the Middle Ages.  Contemporary accounts attest to how rapid the decline was.”

“I asked about _his_ chances, Duck.”

“You know better than to ask me that sort of question, Jethro.  Suffice to say that once his sputum turns bloody … well, let me just say that it is not a good sign.”

“He just coughed up blood, Duck.”

“Oh dear.  Dr Pitt showed me his x-rays.  I have to say that they do not look encouraging.”

“You saying that he’s dying?” demanded Gibbs.

Ducky was spared from answering by the arrival of Director Morrow with Stan in his wake.

“The doctor at Lowell Pharmaceutical told me that the Y-pestis …”

“What’s Y-pestis?” interrupted Gibbs.

“Yersinia pestis,” said Ducky.  “It’s the full name of the bacterium which causes plague, including the pneumonic plague with which Anthony has been infected.”

“Lowell Pharmaceutical assured me that the y pestis has a suicide gene so should no longer be active in Agent DiNozzo’s system,” said the Director.

“Does that help?” asked Gibbs.

Ducky sighed.  “It is good news that the bacterium is no longer active but it has already caused severe damage to Anthony’s respiratory system.”

“The Lowell doctor said that people in the Middle Ages only had a 15% chance of survival,” said Stan informatively.

Gibbs felt as if his heart stopped at this news.  Ducky tutted in annoyance at the statistic being given,

“There is no point in talking about odds,” he declared.  “The situations are not comparable.  Anthony is young and fit and has had the benefits of a good diet and medical care throughout his life.  I would expect that his odds of survival are much higher than those of a malnourished and weakened medieval peasant.  And no, I am not going to speculate on what those odds are.”

“You can stand down from your protection duty, Jethro,” said the Director.  “We have Hanna Lowell in custody.  I am confident that she was the only person involved.  She won’t be targeting anyone again.”

“It was her then?”  The Director nodded.  “Did she say why she did it?” asked Gibbs.

“She believes that her daughter never recovered from the trauma of the alleged rape.  She wanted to get justice for her.”

“ _Alleged_ rape?” said Gibbs.

“Yes,” said the Director heavily.  “Agent Burley and I spoke to her daughter who confessed that she had been tied to her bed by her boyfriend who had then left her there as a joke.  He was killed when he left the hotel and so never returned.”

“And she never told anyone?” asked Ducky.  “Why ever not?”

“She was embarrassed,” said Stan.

Gibbs smashed his fist against the glass of the isolation chamber in frustration at what had happened because Sarah Lowell had been embarrassed.

“She’s terribly sorry,” said the Director.

“Tell that to him,” said Gibbs gesturing through the glass.  “When he’s stopped coughing up his lungs!”

“What will happen to Hanna Lowell?” asked Ducky.

“She will be charged with attempted murder.  But it is unlikely that the case will come to trial,” said Morrow.

“Why?  She got some high paid lawyer who’s going to get her off?” demanded Gibbs hotly.

“No, Agent Gibbs,” said the Director levelly.  “It won’t come to trial because she’s terminally ill with a brain tumour and only has weeks to live.”

“It may be that the tumour affected her judgement,” suggested Ducky.

“I don’t care!” said Gibbs.  “She nearly killed an NCIS agent.  There’s no excuse for that."

“Agreed,” said the Director.  “But what is important now is Agent DiNozzo.  Dr Mallard, can you report?”

“Commander Pitt will have the most complete prognosis,” said Ducky, “But I fear that Anthony has a hard road ahead of him.”

“Has his family been notified?” asked Morrow.

“Doesn’t want anyone,” said Gibbs.  “I asked him.”

“I see,” said the Director.  “Agent Gibbs, as I said, you may stand down from your protection duty.”

“I’ll stay,” said Gibbs.

The Director nodded.  “Very well.  Agent Burley, you will return to the Navy Yard with me and write your report.”

“Yes, Director,” said Stan.  “Um, would it be all right if I come back later?  To see how Agent DiNozzo is doing?”

The Director nodded his assent.  “Keep me informed, gentlemen.  Agent Burley, with me.”

“I will consult with Commander Pitt,” said Ducky as he also walked away leaving Gibbs on his own.  Gibbs stared through the glass of the isolation chamber for a moment or two and then squared his shoulders and marched back in.

“It’s good news that the bacterium is no longer active,” said Emma encouragingly as Gibbs joined her by Tony’s bedside.

Gibbs nodded.  He felt the need to hang on to each scrap of good news.

Tony’s eyes opened and managed to focus on Gibbs.  “Why do your exes come after you with golf clubs?” he asked.

“What?” said Gibbs.

“In the shower.  You said that your exes come after you with golf clubs and divorce lawyers?  Why?” Tony managed to gasp.

“That’s what you want to know?  Now?  That’s what you want to know?” said a puzzled Gibbs.

“Why not?” said Tony.  “I’ve got time.  Or at least, I think I have.  So … why the golf club?”

“She was a golfer,” said Gibbs.

Tony coughed.  “I play football but I wouldn’t go after someone with a ball,” he managed.

“I guess I annoyed her,” admitted Gibbs.

“Imagine that,” said Tony.

Gibbs grinned.

“Why she need more than one divorce lawyer?” asked Tony.

“She didn’t.”

“Thought you said _lawyers_.  As in more than one.”

” More than one wife.  Not more than one lawyer.”

“What?” asked Tony who was struggling to concentrate.

“Three divorces.  Three divorce lawyers.  One per wife.”

“Oh.  You must have a way with women, Agent Gibbs.”

“Why?”

“You got three of them to marry you,” Tony pointed out.

“Not for long though,” said Gibbs.

“There is that,” conceded Tony.  He closed his eyes tiredly and seemed to be falling asleep when another coughing fit woke him up again.  When Gibbs laid him back down once the spasm was over, Tony spoke again,

“My lawyer has the funeral plan.”

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“Doug.  My lawyer.  Has my will and the funeral arrangements.  You should know.”

“Why?”

“Don’t let my father make any plans.  Talk to Doug.”

“Why you talking about your funeral?”

“Don’t feel so good.  Want you … to … know.”

“I’m not talking to your lawyer,” said Gibbs firmly.

“Why not?”

“I have a rule.  About not involving lawyers.”

“You do?” asked Tony.

“Yep.  You want a lawyer.  You speak to one yourself.”

“Just trying to make things easier,” gasped Tony.

“You going back on what you said?” asked Gibbs.

“What?” asked Tony.

“Didn’t take you for someone who quit when the going got tough,” said Gibbs.

“I’m not,” protested Tony.  “Just being realistic.”

“You can be realistic on your own time,” said Gibbs.  “You’re still on the NCIS clock.”

“I am?”

“Yep."

“What were we talking about?” asked Tony vaguely.

“Damned if I know,” said Gibbs.  “You were talking nonsense.”

“I was?”                                                                                   

“Yeah.”

“I was talking about my funeral,” said Tony.

“And I told you that I didn’t think you were the type of person to quit,” said Gibbs sternly.

“I’m not,” said Tony.

“Then don’t talk about dying.  Don’t go back on what you said.”

“What did I say?”

“You said that you wouldn’t die.  That you wouldn’t go down to a disease from the dark ages.”

“I did?”

“Yes.  Say it again!  Say, that you will not die.”

“I won’t die,” said Tony weakly.

“Say it as if you mean it,” ordered Gibbs.

“I won’t die,” said Tony more strongly.  “I won’t die.”

“See that you don’t,” said Gibbs.

Tony nodded weakly and fell asleep once more.

NCISNCIS

As the hours passed it seemed that Tony was right and that he wouldn’t die.  He was still coughing and his breathing was laboured at times but he seemed to be less feverish and disorientated.

“Why aren’t you sick?” he asked Gibbs during one of his wakeful times.

“What?” asked Gibbs.

“Thought you had the plague.  Why aren’t you sick?”

“Must have been a false alarm.  I’ve never had a cold or flu.  No allergies.”

“Nothing?” said Tony incredulously.

“Nope,” said Gibbs.

“Must be something to do with the dark urine,” said Tony.

“Or good genes,” said Gibbs.  “Stillwater people don’t get sick.”

“What’s Stillwater?” asked Tony.

“My home town.  In Pennsylvania.”

“Sounds nice,” said Tony, “Sort of peaceful.”

“Guess so,” said Gibbs.

“Suits you,” said Tony.

“Eh?”

“Stillwater.  Still waters run deep, you know.”

“Never thought about it,” said Gibbs.

“Why are you still here?” asked Tony.

“Because I am.”

“If you’re not sick, you don’t need to be here,” said Tony.  “Why don’t you go home?”

“You want me to?” asked Gibbs.

“Didn’t say that,” said Tony evasively.  “You can stay if you want.”

“Nurse Emma got me a book,” said Gibbs holding it up.  “And the coffee’s not so bad.”

“OK,” breathed Tony as he dozed off again.

NCISNCIS

When Tony woke up again he realised something was different.

“They switched the lights off,” he said.

“Anthony?” asked Ducky from his bedside.

“The lights aren’t blue,” explained Tony.

“You have been moved out of the isolation chamber,” said Ducky.  

“Does that mean I can go home?” asked Tony hopefully.

“Certainly not,” said Ducky firmly.  “You are still very sick.  You will be in hospital for a few days yet.”

“But I’m fine,” protested Tony.

“Of course you are,” agreed Ducky.  “But I would be most surprised if you were able to get out of that bed without assistance.”

Tony considered this and thought about sitting up in bed a little more as proof of his fitness.  After a few seconds of unavailing effort, he said, “You may be right.”

“Quite right, Anthony,” said Ducky.

“Where’s Agent Gibbs?” asked Tony.

“I sent him home,” said Ducky.  “Even Jethro needs to sleep sometimes.”

“When am I?” asked Tony.

“You are still in the Bethesda hospital,” said Ducky.

“No, not where but when?” asked Tony.  “Is it tomorrow or still today?”

Ducky blinked as he tried to work out Tony’s meaning.  “It is 36 hours since you inhaled the dust,” he said.  “You have been asleep for approximately 8 hours.  Even your coughing did not wake you up.”

“Oh,” said Tony.  “When I will be able to get back to work, Ducky?”

Ducky managed to restrain himself from tutting.  “You will have to ask Commander Pitt but I believe you will be in hospital for 4 or 5 more days.  You will then need at least a couple of weeks’ rest at home before a return to light duties.”

“Light duties?” said Tony.

“Indeed, light duties,” said Ducky.  “I don’t think you realise, young man, what a lucky escape you have had.  It behoves you to be careful in your recovery period so that you do not undo the good work of your medical team.”

“I only asked,” said Tony a little sulkily.

“And I only told you,” said Ducky.

It was at this opportune moment that Stan arrived with exaggerated stealth.

“You do not need to worry, Stanley,” said Ducky magisterially.  “The patient is awake.  And being difficult.”

“Oh,” said Stan.  “Is it OK to visit?  I don’t want to interrupt …”

“You are not interrupting,” said Ducky.  “Pray, do stay and visit with Anthony.  I shall take the opportunity to consult with Anthony’s doctors.  Perhaps he will be more inclined to take notice of _other_ medical professionals.”

“He seemed angry,” said Stan once Ducky was out of earshot.

“He’s enjoying himself,” said Tony sagely.  “He likes to have talking patients for a change.”

“How are you, Agent DiNozzo?” asked Stan.

“I’m fine,” said Tony.  “Tell me what happened?”

“When?”

“When you went to Lowell Pharmaceutical.  What did the Director do?”

“You sure I should tell you?” asked Stan.  “You know, you not being well and all?”

“Special Agent Burley,” said Tony.  “Report!”

Stan couldn’t wait to tell the story so eagerly obeyed.  “It was awesome,” he said.  “Agent Fornell – you remember Agent Fornell, don’t you – well he looked real threatening.  Didn’t say anything but just stood by the Director and looked menacing.  I was glad he was on my side.  I wouldn’t want to meet him on a dark night.  And the Director, he was so calm and authoritative.  Didn’t take any nonsense.  And he really intimidated the scientist who was doing the experiments on the germs.  I mean, he was a good guy but the Director got the facts out of him without breaking sweat.”

Tony nodded appreciatively.  “And what did you do?”

“Um, held the door open,” said Stan.  “And managed not to trip up.  Not much, really.”

Tony looked at Stan thoughtfully, “Why do you do that, Stan?”

“What?” asked Stan.

“You graduated _summa cum laude_ from Harvard,” said Tony.  “You were an excellent aide to Senator Chong and graduated third in your class at FLETC.”

“Yes?” said Stan cautiously.

“And yet you act as if you’re a bumbling bewildered puppy,” said Tony.

“I do?”

“Yes, you do.  And I understand why, a little.  I think you don’t want to intimidate people by letting them know how bright you are.  And I guess it worked well dealing with people coming to see the Senator.  You wanted to appear friendly and affable so they were at their ease.”

“Um,” said Stan.

“But it’s not you, Stan.  When you called in when you were caught by those guys in Ivy City you were calm, measured and succinct.  When Agent Gibbs and I were rescuing Gully, you stepped up and alerted Harbour Patrol and used your initiative in calling Dr Mallard.”

“Well,” said Stan shifting a little in discomfort.

“Not to mention that you spotting the discrepancy in that cold case was good work,” continued Tony.

“It was?”

“It was.  Stan, I understand why you do it.  And it was a good idea when you were a Senator’s aide but bumbling and affable isn’t always good in a Federal Agent.  Might be sometimes, when you’re interviewing nervous witnesses but there’s a time and a place.”

“But,” tried Stan.

“Stan, I know about masks.  You can have your masks but you need to let people know that they are masks.  That there’s more to you than what you present to the world.  Agent Gibbs and I can see beneath the masks but other people may not and they will underestimate you.  Most people believe what they see and if they see someone apparently struggling not to fall over their feet then they’ll believe that’s who you really are.  You understand?”

Stan resolutely refrained from hesitating and said, “Yes, Sir.  Thank you.”

“Good,” said Tony.  “Now get out.  I need my sleep.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Stan.

When Tony opened his eyes sometime later it was to find Director Morrow in the chair by his bed.

“Director,” he said, making to sit up a little.

“Stay where you are,” ordered the Director.  Tony lay back down again in relief.  “How are you feeling?” asked Morrow.

“Fine,” said Tony.

“Well, you don’t look fine.  You look as if you’re recovering from a near death experience,” said the Director curtly.

“Oh,” said Tony.

“And I am glad it was only a near death experience,” said the Director more warmly.

“Me too,” admitted Tony.

“Dr Mallard and Commander Pitt have advised me that it will probably be at least a month before you are ready to resume full duties,” said the Director.

“A month?” said Tony aghast.

“A month,” said the Director firmly.  “And I intend to ensure that you follow your doctors’ advice.”

“About that, Sir,” said Tony, “I will understand if …”

“If what?”

“If you want to reconsider the structure of the MCRT.”

“What do you mean?” asked Morrow.

“You won’t want to delay the launch of the team for so long,” said Tony.  “So I’ll understand if you want to take me off the team.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’m sure Agent Gibbs would be willing to take on the lead,” said Tony.  “You could find someone else to be Senior Field Agent.  I’m sure there are lots of people who would jump at the chance.”

“And what about you?”

“I could go on to another team.  Or another posting,” said Tony.

“Thank you,” said Morrow.  “However, I have no intention of revising the structure of the team.  I want you as lead.  It is unfortunate that the team will have to delay its launch but I am prepared to wait.  Unless, of course, you no longer wish to be agent in charge?”

“No, Sir,” said Tony.  “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Then the subject is closed,” said Morrow.

“Thank you, Sir,” said Tony.  “I have a suggestion.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Agent Flick … Felicity … Coombs …”

“Agent Afloat on the USS Calvin Coolidge?” said the Director.

“Yes, Sir.  She took over from me on the Coolidge.  We’ve kept in touch.  We thought it would be a good idea to give some agents a taste of what it’s like to be Agent Afloat.  You know, before actually taking up the job.”

“Go on,” said Morrow.

“We’ve worked up a sort of induction programme and she’d like to put it into practice.  The Coolidge is in Norfolk at the moment.”

“Having a retrofit on the navigation system,” said the Director.

“Yes, Sir,” said Tony admiring Morrow’s grasp on what was happening.  “She’s due to start two weeks of sea trials.  It would be a good chance to try out the induction programme.  Just a short cruise but it would give a good insight into what life aboard is like.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” said Morrow.  “Who do you propose to send?  Agent Gibbs?”

Tony choked and began coughing.  After being thumped on the back by the Director and given a glass of water, he was eventually able to speak again, “No, he said. “Not Agent Gibbs.  He’s already done a stint as Agent Afloat.  No, I thought it would be good experience for Agent Burley.  I know it’s early in his career but he’ll be facing some downtime otherwise.  I have a feeling he’d be good as an Agent Afloat.”

“I agree,” said Morrow.  “It’s an interesting idea.  Agents tend to get posted afloat without much preparation and that’s inefficient.  Tell Agent Coombs that she has my approval.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And do you have any proposals about how Agent Gibbs might occupy his time while waiting for your return to duty?”

Tony thought about suggesting a refresher driving course but decided against that so simply said, “No, Sir.”

“No more liaison meetings with other agencies?” said Morrow.

Tony shook his head at the thought of Gibbs going solo to other agencies.

“Or perhaps some more sessions with Legal?”

Tony had never suspected that the Director had a sense of humour but the twinkle in his eye suggested he had been incorrect.  “No, Sir,” he smiled.  “I think they’ve only just recovered from the first one.”

“So, no suggestions?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good.  HR have been looking at Agent Gibbs’ record and discovered that he has six weeks of untaken leave.  They are exerting pressure on him to take some of it.”

“And he _agreed_?” asked Tony sceptically.

“Yes,” said the Director.

“What’s he going to do?” asked Tony curiously.

“I am not in Agent Gibbs’ confidence,” said the Director.  “But he said something about going apartment hunting.  For a friend.”

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Six days later Tony was waiting in his hospital room ready to be discharged. 

“Six days?” he said to Ducky who was waiting with him.

“Six days,” confirmed the doctor.

“Six days.  How did that happen?”

“You have spent a lot of that time asleep, my dear boy,” said Ducky.

“I remember talking to the Director about Stan going to the Coolidge,” said Tony.

“I believe that was soon after you were moved out of isolation.”

“And I spoke to Stan … about something,” remembered Tony.  “But after that it’s pretty much a blank until yesterday.”

“I fear that, after your burst of activity – which was ill-advised, if I may say so – you suffered something of a relapse.  Your temperature went up and the fever returned.  As I said, you spent a lot of time asleep,” said Ducky.

Tony thought about querying why, if he had been asleep so much, he was still tired but decided that he really wanted to leave the hospital and such an enquiry might be counterproductive.

“You may still experience feelings of tiredness,” said Ducky unconsciously answering Tony’s unspoken question.  “But that is entirely normal.  You still need rest and to complete the course of antibiotics.  And to drink lots of fluids.  Your cough may take many days to clear completely.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” said Tony glumly.

“I am only telling you these things for your own good,” said Ducky with a hint of reproof.

“Oh.  I know that, Ducky.  And I am grateful, really, I am.  It’s just that …”

“You want to leave here,” supplied Ducky.

“Yeah,” said Tony.

“Didn’t think you’d be awake,” came another voice as Gibbs arrived.

“What?” asked Tony.

“You’ve been out for the count when I’ve seen you this week,” said Gibbs.

Tony tried to digest this.  “You’ve seen me this week?” he asked.

“Brad wanted to see me every day,” said Gibbs.  “Make sure I hadn’t been infected after all.  I looked in most times after I’d seen him.”

Tony nodded.  That made sense.

“Ready to go?” asked Gibbs.

“Am I ever!” replied Tony.

“OK then.  Let’s go,” said Gibbs.

“What?  What do you mean, let’s go?”

“I’m your transport,” said Gibbs.  “Unless you want to drive yourself.”

“That would be most inadvisable,” put in Ducky.

“I can take a cab,” protested Tony.

“No need,” said Gibbs.

“You don’t need …”  Tony trailed off as Gibbs picked up his bag with a determined expression on his face.

“And before you get to the hospital entrance,” announced Ducky, “You will travel in the wheelchair that awaits you outside.”

Tony opened his mouth to argue but then remembered how walking to the bathroom had exhausted him that morning.  He didn’t think he’d make a hundred paces under his own steam and certainly not if he had to expend energy in arguing with his stubborn co-workers.

“OK,” he said, trying to give in with a good grace.

“That’s the spirit,” said Ducky jovially as he gave him a pat on the shoulder.  “Drive carefully, Jethro.”

“Definitely,” said Brad as he appeared at the door.  “That’s a medical marvel you’ve got there.  Cases of pneumonic plague are rare, you know.  We don’t often get a case to study.  I’m going to write a paper and submit it to the American Medical Association.  You’re going to be famous, Tony.”

“That is fascinating,” said Ducky.  “I would be interested to see a draft of the paper.  I may even be able to assist you in some small way as I will be able to get access to Anthony’s previous medical history so that you can judge the scale of any impairment.  I am sure it is very rare to have access to such a wealth of comparative data.”

Gibbs sensed Tony’s displeasure at this conversation so decided to intervene.  “The medical marvel looks as if he’s about to fall asleep,” he announced.  “Have you two finished?”

“Of course,” said Ducky penitently.  “We should not delay you any longer.  Now, Anthony, have you got your medication?  And the instructions as to its use?  I trust you have my phone numbers?  Remember that you can contact me anytime, day or night.”

“And if you can’t reach Dr Mallard you can call me with any concerns,” said Brad.

“That is most kind of you, Dr Pitt,” said Ducky.  “It is unusual for a hospital based doctor to be ready to follow up with personal care in that way …”

“Duck!” said Gibbs.  “Can we go?”  The Gibbs glare was enough, temporarily at least, to silence the two doctors and they nodded their consent.

“Thanks, Agent Gibbs,” said Tony as Gibbs wheeled him out.  “I thought they’d never stop.  That I’d be there for another six days.”

Gibbs grinned and, as he pushed the chair along, they could both hear the buzz of the resumed conversation.

“Friends for life,” commented Tony.

“Reckon Ducky’s friends for life with most people,” observed Gibbs.

Gibbs settled Tony in front seat of his car after Tony rejected the suggestion that he might want to lie down on the back seat.

“You know where my hotel is?” asked Tony.

“Sure,” said Gibbs as he pulled sedately out into the traffic.  Tony drank in all that he could see: it might only be DC traffic and a cloudy sky but it was exhilarating to see something other than hospital walls.  The excitement didn’t last long and he soon dozed off.

“We’re here,” said Gibbs a few minutes later as he stopped the car.

“Wow,” said Tony drowsily.  “Must stop doing that.”  He looked out of the window.  “Uh.  Agent Gibbs.  This isn’t my hotel.”

“Nope.”

“In fact it’s not a hotel at all.”

“Hope not,” said Gibbs matter-of-factly.

“It’s your house.”

“Yep.”

“Why am I here?”

“Your hotel was full,” said Gibbs.

“What?”

“They needed your room,” explained Gibbs.

“Why?  They were being paid for it,” said Tony.

“Convention in town,” said Gibbs.  “They figured they’d make more money out of your room with someone who was in town as a visitor.”

“There are other hotels,” suggested Tony.

“Lots of conventions in town,” said Gibbs.  “No room at any of the inns.”

Tony felt another wave of fatigue wash over him but he felt the need to continue to resist.  “But …” he began.

“You telling me you’d rather go to a hotel than stay with me?” asked Gibbs.

Tony wasn’t entirely sure of the answer to that but didn’t think he had the energy to argue.  “There are laws against kidnapping,” he griped.  “Would have thought a federal agent would know that.”

Gibbs laughed and got out of the car.  He walked around to the passenger door but Tony managed to frustrate his helpfulness by getting out by himself.  He didn’t manage to get to his bag first, however, and Gibbs seized it from the back seat.

“Want something to eat?” asked Gibbs.  He walked into the kitchen having deliberately not helped Tony lower himself down to the couch although he had made sure that he was OK.  “Abby sent some gumbo.  And Ducky sent some Scotch broth.  Or …”  Gibbs looked back into the living room and saw that Tony had already fallen asleep.  “Guess that’s a no,” he murmured.

NCISNCIS

Tony awoke thirty minutes later to the smell of chicken and spices.  For a moment or two he wondered where he was and why he was covered with a crocheted afghan.  When he remembered, he groaned.

“You OK?” asked Gibbs.

“I’m fine,” said Tony a little groggily.  “You know, apart from being a medical marvel and recovering from being kidnapped.”  Gibbs shrugged.  “I’m not ungrateful, Agent Gibbs, but it’s …”

“What?”

“Embarrassing,” said Tony.

“Why is it embarrassing?” asked Gibbs.

“You having to look after me,” said Tony.  “I can take care of myself.”

Gibbs gazed at Tony and wondered, with a father who would be too busy to come visit a sick son and a mother who had died when he was a child, whether Tony knew what it was like to have someone to look after him.

“I won’t fuss over you,” said Gibbs.  “And I don’t think you’ll be any bother.  Seems to me you’ll be asleep most of the time anyway.”

“Did Ducky make you do this?” asked Tony.

“No one _makes_ me do anything,” said Gibbs.

“So it was your idea?” asked Tony sceptically.

“Look,” said Gibbs.  “Do you really want to go to a hotel?  Ordering room service every time you want a hot lemon drink or a heat pack?  Noisy guests next door?”

“No, I guess not,” admitted Tony.  “You sure about this?”

Gibbs simply stared as an answer.

“I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can,” promised Tony.

“Take as long as you need,” said Gibbs.  “Your room’s ready upstairs.  We got your gear from the hotel.  It’s all unpacked.”

“Thank you,” said Tony hoping that it was his weariness that was to blame for the unexpected emotion he felt at being welcomed into Gibbs’ house.  “If you’re …”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Gibbs briskly, already tiring of the discussion.

“Thank you,” said Tony again.  “Did you say something about gumbo?”

NCISNCIS

Gibbs had spoken the truth when he said he wouldn’t fuss over Tony but he somehow contrived always to be around when it was time for Tony to take his medicine.  And it seemed that he always wanted a drink when Tony was beginning to think he was thirsty. Whenever Tony began to flag, Gibbs retreated to his basement leaving Tony free to fall asleep without feeling that he was being an unsociable guest although Tony realised that an ideal guest, in Gibbs’ opinion, was someone who needed to sleep a lot rather than engage in conversation.  All in all, the first day passed better than Tony could have expected and he acknowledged to himself that it was more restful to be in someone’s house than in a hotel.  Even if that house did belong to Gibbs.

“Want a beer?” asked Gibbs as they sat in his living room after dinner.

“Am I allowed?” asked Tony in surprise.

“Figure you’re an adult,” said Gibbs with a shrug.  “You can decide.”

Tony was grateful for being allowed some control.  The days in hospital, followed by the ‘kidnapping’ had not allowed him much opportunity for decisions.  “Thanks,” he said.  “That would be great.”  He was about to add something about asking Gibbs not to let him have more than one but somehow he didn’t think Gibbs would offer a second one.

“So,” said Gibbs casually after he had taken a long gulp of his own beer.  “Why are you in a hotel anyway?”

Tony’s beer went down the wrong way and Gibbs had to slap him on the back until he recovered.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked when he could speak again.  “I mean,” he continued.  “You don’t usually ask me questions like that.  You know, personal ones.”

“Don’t have to answer,” said Gibbs.

Tony considered for a moment but decided there was no reason not to tell Gibbs.

“I had an apartment.  Rented.  It was nice.  But I was going to move into another one.  Buying, for the first time.  But it fell through.”

“Happens,” observed Gibbs.

“I had a lot of different assignments in the last few weeks,” continued Tony.  “Overseas and in other parts of the country.  Made it difficult to go apartment hunting.”

“Hmm,” said Gibbs.

“I haven’t seen your interrogation technique yet, Agent Gibbs.  It’s a good one.  Getting information by not asking any questions.”

“Is it working?” asked Gibbs.

“I was supposed to be moving into the new place with my girlfriend …”

“Thought you said you didn’t have one?” said Gibbs.

“When did I say that?” asked Tony.

“When you were in the hospital.  I asked if there was anyone you wanted to be called.”

“What else did I say?” said Tony in sudden alarm.

“That I shouldn’t call your Dad because he’d be too busy to come.”

“Oh.”

“And that there wasn’t a _significant other_ to call.”

“I don’t remember,” said Tony.

“What does your Dad do?” asked Gibbs.

Tony laughed drily.  “Good question.  He’s a businessman.”

“Own his own company?”

“No.  He does business deals.  Networks.  Got to hand it to Senior, he always has a plan.  Always has someone with inside knowledge.”

“I see,” said Gibbs.

“Do you?  ‘Cos I don’t.  But it’s always been the same.  He can work a room better than anyone I’ve ever seen.  He’s got charm.”

“Does it run in the family?” asked Gibbs.

Tony’s face went unexpectedly grim.  “Certainly hope not.  I don’t really think of Senior as a role model.”

Gibbs decided not to probe anymore.  “So, why didn’t you move in with your girlfriend?”

“We broke up,” said Tony.

“Ah,” said Gibbs.

“She decided that she didn’t want to be with a cop.  She’d got fed up with the mad working hours.  And I tended to get out of town assignments.  I could understand why she didn’t’ like it.  That’s one of the reasons I accepted the MCRT job.”

“You thought that would be shorter hours?” asked Gibbs in surprise.

“No,” said Tony.  “No, I know it’s not going to be 9-5 but it will be mostly in DC.  I thought that would be better.”

“But she didn’t agree?”

“Apparently not.  Didn’t even give it a try.  She split up with me.”

“May be just as well,” said Gibbs.

“The day before we were due to get married,” said Tony.

“Ouch,” said Gibbs thinking that the word was inadequate.

“Yeah,” said Tony.  “Neither of us could afford the mortgage on our own so the apartment fell through.  I’d already given notice on my place so hotels were my only option.

Gibbs nodded but didn’t say anything.  It seemed that was the right thing to do as Tony continued,

“That day when Stan decided to be a hero.  You know, the day you found me shooting hoops …”

Gibbs nodded again remembering the day when he had disturbed Tony and found him looking uncharacteristically solemn.

Tony swallowed before saying, “That was Wendy’s birthday.  It brought back memories.  Mostly happy ones … until they weren’t.  You know.  You must do, seems you’ve had a few exes yourself.”

“Yeah.  I know about memories,” agreed Gibbs.

They stayed silent for a few more moments before Tony remembered something.

“The Director said you were taking some time off.  Did I remember that right?”

“Yeah,” said Gibbs.  “HR were on my back.”

“Always your first concern,” said Tony managing to keep a straight face.

Gibbs managed a half smile in response.  “I know when to give in.  Sometimes.  Besides, with you out of action for a while. I didn’t reckon much to staying in the office.  _Liaising_ or _networking.”_   He suppressed a shudder.

“Yeah.  I haven’t known you long, Agent Gibbs but I already know that you are as unlike my father as a person can be.  _He’d_ love the prospect of weeks of downtime to schmooze.”

“Seemed the right time,” said Gibbs vaguely.

“I don’t remember much about the last few days,” said Tony. “But I thought the Director said something about you going apartment hunting.  You thinking of moving?”

“No,” said Gibbs.  “I won’t leave this place.”

“Then why?” asked Tony.

“Thought I could help you look,” said Gibbs.  “You said you had a place in mind.”

“You mean it?” asked Tony.

“Never say anything I don’t mean,” said Gibbs.

“No.  I guess that’s true,” said Tony, not sure if that was a wholly good thing.

“You gonna argue about it?” asked Gibbs.

Tony felt that politeness required that he protest a little at Gibbs giving up his hard-earned vacation but then he remembered Gibbs’ earlier words,

“Nope.  Figure you’re an adult.  You can make your own decision,” he said.

“That was the right answer,” said Gibbs.  “Be a day or two before we start.  Reckon you’ll need to be able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time before you’re ready.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Tony.

Gibbs nodded enigmatically but said nothing.  A few minutes later he made his way back down to the basement leaving Tony to battle his drooping eyelids.  It was just as Tony was succumbing to sleep that he remembered the rest of what the Director had said.  That Gibbs was going apartment hunting _for a friend._  

When Gibbs came back to check on Tony he wasn’t surprised to find his guest sound asleep but he did wonder what had put the smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it’s a cliché having Gibbs bring Tony home … but it seemed to fit.


	11. Chapter 11

Given that Tony was prone to think aloud and that talking was Gibb’s activity of last resort, the days of Tony’s recuperation went better than could have been expected.  This was largely due to the amount of time Tony spent asleep as his body recovered from the ravages of the plague.

Gibbs had wondered what would happen when Tony was able to stay awake for longer periods; he had expected to spend more time in the basement but was surprised to find that Tony was happy to read his way through Gibbs’ book collection or to go on increasingly long walks.  A week passed and the two were still co-existing in something that approached harmony.

Gibbs emerged from the basement on the eighth day of Tony’s stay to find his guest sitting in front of his laptop.

“Stan says hi,” said Tony when he saw Gibbs appear.

“What?” asked Gibbs.  “When did you see him?”

Tony smiled.  “He emails me.  Lets me know how the induction cruise is going.”

“Didn’t think you were supposed to be working,” commented Gibbs.

“This doesn’t really count as working,” said Tony with a gesture towards the laptop.  “It’s just a few emails.”

“How’s Stan getting on?” asked Gibbs.

“He’s probably emailed you too,” said Tony.  “Have you checked your inbox?”

Gibbs hid his horror at this idea.  “Nope.  Haven’t got round to it.”

Tony had a pretty good idea of the likelihood of Gibbs checking his emails so decided to pass on the news.  “Seems to be enjoying it …”

“Stan seems to enjoy most things,” Gibbs commented.

“Yeah, I guess he does,” agreed Tony.  “Been seasick a bit.  Probably didn’t enjoy that!  I’ll get him to write a report.”

“On being seasick?”

“No!  On being agent afloat, what the course is like.”

Gibbs nodded: that made more sense.  “I saw him before he left,” said Gibbs.  “He seemed different.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Good, I think.  Less like a Labrador puppy and more like a full grown dog.  Said you’d spoken to him.”

“I did.”

“Made him think,” said Gibbs.

“He told you about it?” asked Tony.

“Yep.  Said you’d finally told him he made a good spot with that cold case.  And that it was time for him not to hide behind masks; that there’s no need to be embarrassed about being bright and capable.”

Tony nodded noncommittally.  “He must trust you.  To talk to you about it,” he said.

“I guess,” said Gibbs.  “And it was good advice.  Hope you follow it yourself.”

Tony stared at Gibbs.  “I try not to be a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ type of person.”

“Good,” said Gibbs.

Silences were common in Gibbs’ house but the one which followed this conversation was slightly awkward and Tony returned to his computer.  A couple of minutes later he said,

“Just had an email from the realtor.  That apartment I was talking about is still available.  Can you come with me tomorrow to visit?”

“Sure,” agreed Gibbs.  “What time?”

NCISNCIS

Gibbs drove the two of them to the apartment viewing the next day.  Tony had wondered whether his threat about dire consequences if Gibbs’ driving made him carsick would apply if it happened out of work hours but he didn’t need to fear.  It seemed that Gibbs was still treating him as something of an invalid and drove carefully.  Tony decided that, although he might resent being regarded as unfit, he was more than ready to reap the benefits.

“Impressive,” commented Gibbs as he drew up outside the apartment block.  “Must be expensive.”

Tony laughed.  “Don’t worry.  I’m not a secret millionaire.  Or on the take.”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Gibbs mildly.

Gibbs was puzzled, however.  He didn’t know much about property in DC; he had bought his own house some years ago and intended never to leave it so value didn’t mean much to him.  He did know, however, that this was an upmarket part of the city and was unlikely to be cheap.

“Surprised it’s stayed unsold for so long,” Gibbs commented.

Unusually it was Tony who remained silent until he introduced Gibbs to the realtor who looked relieved to see them both.

“Marcia,” said Tony, “This is Agent Gibbs, one of my co-workers.  He’s going to cast a professional look at the apartment.  Agent Gibbs, this is Marcia Hepplethwaite.”

“Ms Hepplethwaite,” acknowledged Gibbs.

Marcia looked worriedly at Gibbs.  “Oh.  Uh.  Nice to meet you, Mr Tibbs.”

“Gibbs,” corrected Tony.  “Although there may be similarities with Tibbs.”

Gibbs looked blankly at Tony who murmured, “I’ll rent the movies for you.”

Marcia led the way to the apartment and threw the door open.  “I’ll leave you to look around, shall I?  I’ll be outside in the hall if you need me.”

“She all right?” asked Gibbs as he watched her scurry out as quickly as possible.

“What?” asked Tony a little absentmindedly as he gazed around the living room.

“She seems a little …”

“Skittish?  Nervous?” suggested Tony.

“Some,” agreed Gibbs.

“Well, there’s a reason the apartment hasn’t sold.  And I think Marcia’s a sensitive soul.  She says she picks up on _atmosphere.”_

“Atmosphere?” asked Gibbs.  “Does it smell or something?”

“Not that type of atmosphere,” said Tony.  “The sort of atmosphere Abby would pick up on.”

“You mean hinky?”

“Sort of.  Although there _is_ a smell.”

Gibbs sniffed.  “Can’t smell anything.”

“Probably because you’re used to it,” said Tony.  “I think there’s just a hint of _eau de fingerprint powder.”_

“This is a crime scene?” asked Gibbs.

“Not now,” said Tony in an offended tone.  “But, yes, it was.  A triple crime scene to be accurate.”

“What?”

“Three people were murdered here,” said Tony.  “That’s why Marcia looked nervous when I introduced you.  When I said you were here to give the place the _professional_ evaluation, she was worried you were going to look at it from a criminological point of view.  She didn’t want you to find that some other crime happened here as well.  She’s having a hard enough time selling the place already.”

“I see,” said Gibbs as the reason for Marcia’s odd behaviour began to make sense.  “So, is that why you want my opinion?  Are you worried about living in a crime scene?”

“Me?  No, it doesn’t bother me.  Although I guess it would be better not to tell Abby what happened here.”

“They find the killer?” asked Gibbs practically.

“With the electric carving knife still in his regrettably sticky hand,” said Tony.

“How’d you find out about this place?” asked Gibbs.

“Friend of mine on Metro PD investigated the murder.  Then he found out the apartment was up for sale.  Knew I was looking and figured I wouldn’t be spooked.”

“Guess there are advantages to _networking_ with other departments,” said Gibbs deadpan.

Tony smiled appreciatively.  “It’s a great place.  Big rooms.  Swanky kitchen; although I don’t cook so it will be wasted on me.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Like I said.  Would be good if you could look to see if the place is in good order.  Not about to collapse under me.  Although after what you said before I may invest in a twin bed instead of my queen!”

“OK,” said Gibbs.  He began to walk around the apartment, tapping on walls, looking at the paintwork, plumbing and electrics while Tony stood at the window looking at the street outside and calculating how long it would take to walk to the pizza shop on the corner.

“Looks good to me,” said Gibbs a few minutes later.  “Makes it easier without the furniture being here.”

“No termites?”

“Nope.”

“No dry rot?”

“Nope.”

“Rats?”

“Didn’t see any.”

“Great.  What do you think about this?” Tony asked.  He walked across the room and lifted up the tarpaulin which covered the floor.

“Ah,” said Gibbs.  “Is that …”

“Blood?  Yes.  Like I said, a carving knife was involved.”

“Be difficult to get it out,” said Gibbs.  “Reckon you’d have to replace those floorboards.  Even re-staining it wouldn’t work.”

“Sounds expensive,” said Tony.

“Yeah,” said Gibbs.  “Probably.”

“Hmm,” said Tony.  “Even with the price being reduced because the place is a former crime scene I’m only just going to be able to make the payments.  Could do without the expense of lifting the floor.”

“Or,” suggested Gibbs.  “You could just put something there … for the time being.  You got any big pieces of furniture?”

“I’ve got a piano,” admitted Tony.

Gibbs considered this.  “Don’t think a piano would be big enough.  How big is it?”

“It’s a baby grand,” said Tony a little sheepishly.

“Oh,” said Gibbs.  He looked up from analysing the stain to see that Tony looked a little defensive about having a grand piano.  “Hey,” he said.  “I’ve got a half-built boat in my basement!  Who am I to criticise what you’ve got?”

Tony nodded.  “You’re right.  The piano would go over that patch.  And when I get around to it, I can get it fixed.  Thanks, Agent Gibbs.”

“No problem,” said Gibbs.

“Then I’ll tell Marcia she’s got a sale,” said Tony.  “And then we can go check out the pizza place on the corner.”

Marcia was delighted, and highly relieved, to have got her most troublesome piece of property off her hands and promised to make sure everything went through as quickly as possible.

“It will make it so much easier that it’s already empty,” she trilled.  “I always think it makes things simpler if you haven’t got to wait for the occupants to move out.”

“That’s been my experience,” said Gibbs drily, “Murder scenes are always my properties of choice.”

Marcia’s hands flew to her mouth in horror as she remembered why the apartment was empty.

Tony patted her kindly on the shoulder, “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

NCISNCIS

Successful apartment hunting and pizza exhausted Tony and he fell asleep on the journey to Gibbs’ house.

“You won’t have to do this for much longer, Agent Gibbs,” he said as he tottered out of the car at journey’s end.

“Be a few weeks before you can move into the apartment,” said Gibbs.

“Friend of mine is on a course out of state for a few weeks.  He said I can bunk in his place if I need to,” said Tony.  He looked at Gibbs who seemed to be on the brink of saying something like _you’re welcome to stay here_ but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

“I thought you’d be glad to see the back of me,” said Tony responding as if Gibbs had said the suppressed words.

“It’s been OK,” said Gibbs.  “You’re tidier than I’d expected.”

Tony laughed.  “You’re a strange one, Agent Gibbs.”

“What do you mean?”

“You gave up your vacation.  Took me into your house and looked after me …”

“You didn’t need much looking after,” stated Gibbs.

“Went apartment hunting with me.”

“It was only one apartment,” protested Gibbs.

“Cooked for me, washed my clothes … admittedly you shrank my Prada wool sweater … made sure I took my medicine.”

“What’s your point?” asked Gibbs.

“And yet you’re still uncomfortable with me.”

“I’m not,” said Gibbs.

“You’re not?” said Tony sceptically.  “Do you realise, Agent Gibbs, that you’ve never called me by name?”

“What?” said Gibbs.

“Not once,” said Tony.  “I commend you for not resorting to _hey, you_ but it’s been close at times.”

“And what about you,” said Gibbs.  “Always calling me _Agent_ Gibbs.  Well, you slipped a couple of times and called me Gibbs but the rest of the time, always Agent Gibbs.  What’s that about?”

“So, you’re bothered I call you Agent Gibbs – which is your name – but I’m not supposed to care you don’t call me anything?”

Gibbs shrugged but didn’t answer.

“OK,” said Tony.  “I’ll tell you what I think.  You’ll still weighing me up.  You’re not sure I’m right for the job …

“I trust Morrow,” said Gibbs.

“So you’re giving me the benefit of the doubt but you suspect that you’re right.  Someone like me can’t possibly be a good leader.”

“You said you had a team in Baltimore,” said Gibbs.  “And the Director poached you from there.”

“But you don’t buy it, do you?  Because I don’t look like … well, I don’t what I don’t look like but I guess it’s your picture of an NCIS agent.  You don’t think someone who comes from money can have a conscience?  Or is it the phys-ed degree?”

“No, I don’t think that,” said an outraged Gibbs.  “I don’t judge people like that.  But you have to admit that you are unusual for an agent in charge …”

“Because I smile a lot and try to get on with people?”

Gibbs shrugged as if to suggest that Tony had hit on a reason for Gibbs’ doubts but he said, “I trust the Director’s judgement.”

“But not mine?” asked Tony.

“Actions speak louder than words,” said Gibbs.  “And trust has to be earned,”

“But you’re willing to follow me until then?”

“I know about chain of command,” said Gibbs stiffly.

“I’m sure you do.  But do you respect it?”

Gibbs nodded.

“Then that will have to do, I guess.  You know, Agent Gibbs, I don’t doubt you could lead the team but I don’t think it would be the best use of your talents.”

“Why?”

“The paperwork, the bureaucracy … which I don’t like either but I know that it serves a purpose.  Being nice to people, to other agencies … yes, sometimes I want to tell them to take a running jump but I know that sometimes -  often – we can’t do it on our own even if we want to.  I’m ready to take the long view and perhaps you should be glad you don’t have to.”

“So, what’s this got to do with always calling me Agent Gibbs?”

“I wasn’t sure – still aren’t – what the right level of familiarity is.  I’d happily call you Jethro or Gibbs.  I wouldn’t mind if you called me Tony, DiNozzo, Sir or Boss … but you’ve carefully avoided any acknowledgement.  I guess that’s because you haven’t worked out where we stand.  I think until you’ve worked that out you’ll stay Agent Gibbs.”

“I see,” said Gibbs.

“Don’t worry, Agent Gibbs, I don’t expect us to become best friends.  Despite everything, I like you and I respect you but you’re the most cussed person I’ve ever met.  It’s easier to work with people you like and respect but I can manage without it.  I’ll be myself, nothing more, nothing less.  I’d like to think that person is someone you’ll come to respect at least a little but I’m not going to change to fit your image of who or what your Boss should be.”

“I can live with that,” said Gibbs.

“That’s good of you,” said Tony evenly.  “Now, I’m going to bed.  It’s been a long day.  Good night, Agent Gibbs.”

“Night,” said Gibbs trailing off into silence as he still struggled with what to call Tony.

Gibbs retreated to his basement and tried to do some sanding of the boat but he didn’t find his usual solace in the work.  He was beginning to think of abandoning the task when he heard footsteps padding down the stairs.  This was unusual; Tony had respected Gibbs’ need for solitude during his stay and this was the first time he had come down to the basement.

“The problem with being a talker,” began Tony without preamble, “Is that sometimes I forget to listen.”

Gibbs canted his head to indicate he was listening but said nothing.

“So I owe you an apology,” said Tony.

Gibbs put the sanding block down as a sign that Tony had his full attention.

“It took me a while,” said Tony, “But I remembered what you said.  _Actions speak louder than words_. Which I took to mean you were waiting to see what I _did_ rather than paying attention to what I _said._   Although I try not to be a hypocrite and say things I don’t mean.  But that’s not what I came to apologise about.  _Actions speak louder than words._   Well, I reckon what you’ve _done_ for me in the last few days speaks pretty loudly of friendship.  So, I just wanted to say thank you and to apologise for not listening to what you were doing.”

Gibbs nodded and gave an approving half-smile.

“Good night … Jethro,” said Tony before turning and trotting back up the stairs.

The half-smile remained on Gibbs’ face as he picked the sanding block up with renewed enthusiasm.

NCISNCIS

Tony didn’t move into his friend’s apartment as he had planned.  Marcia, anxious not to lose the sale, negotiated a reduced rental for him so he could move into the new apartment while waiting for the sale to be finalised.  He was due to return to desk duty but decided to take a week’s leave first so that he could supervise the moving of his stuff out of store – and avoid being bored at work.  Stan was not due back from his Agent Afloat secondment for another three days so the MCRT was still not ready to launch.  Gibbs, true to his _Actions speak louder than words_ philosophy offered to help with the move,

“Might keep Ducky off your back,” he commented.

“What?” asked Tony.

“He won’t approve of you doing heavy work so soon,” explained Gibbs.  “Medical marvels have to be careful, you know.”

Tony groaned.  “Will I ever live that down?”

“Probably not,” said Gibbs placidly.  “He’s coming over later.”

“Why?” asked Tony in a voice laden with suspicion.

“To check on you.  Make sure you’re _following Doctors’ orders.”_

“Perhaps I should go and have my afternoon nap,” said Tony casually.

“Good idea.”

Tony walked slowly away reminding Gibbs of how Kelly had tended to walk reluctantly up the stairs when it was time for bed.  He wondered, however, if Tony was aware of the number of excuses he made for retiring to bed as he was unwilling to admit that he still tired easily and fell asleep effortlessly.  It was the same that day, no sooner had Tony stretched out on the bed than he was sound asleep.  He awoke sometime later to the sound of Gibbs and Ducky talking out in the backyard.

“I am glad to hear that Anthony is taking some rest,” said Ducky.

Tony assumed that Gibbs must have nodded because the doctor continued.  “I hear that he is moving into a new apartment next week.”

“Where did you hear that?” asked Gibbs.

“It is surprising how much _information_ wends its way down to my quiescent quarters, my dwelling place for the deceased, my NCIS nether regions, my …”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Gibbs.  “I know that all the gossip gets to you.”

“Indeed.  I am concerned, however, that he does not overexert himself.  Moving house is a tiring exercise even when one is in the best of health and Anthony, despite his protestations to the contrary, is not in the best of health.”

“I’ll be there, Duck,” said Gibbs.

“In that case I will leave the matter in your capable hands, Jethro.  Although I may drop in _unexpectedly_ during the course of the day.”

Tony decided it was time to stop listening in; he really didn’t want to hear about plans to ensure he took a siesta on moving day.  He swung his legs to the floor and sat up but then stopped in fascination as Ducky continued talking.

“I have given that other matter some thought, Jethro.”

“What’s that, Duck?”

“We were discussing what type of dog Anthony might most resemble.  I posited the suggestion that he might be an Italian greyhound.”

Gibbs vaguely remembered the conversation on the day of Tony’s court appearance.

“Yeah?” he asked.  “What you come up with?”

“I also tried to think of what type of dog _you_ might be, Jethro.”

“That’s easy,” said Gibbs.  “Pit bull.”

“Pit bull?” asked Ducky.

“Sure.  They’ve got a bad reputation but I reckon they’re smart, loyal, affectionate …”

“And may bite you if they are annoyed,” commented Ducky.

“Just don’t get on their wrong side,” said Gibbs.  Tony could picture the shrug.

“If you say so,” said Ducky.

“So what did you come up with … instead of the Italian greyhound?” asked Gibbs.

“An Irish Setter,” said Ducky.

“What?  I don’t see it.  They’re crazy,” said Gibbs.  “Too bouncy by half.  Which I guess does fit.”

Tony paused in the act of putting his shoes on and decided he could easily go off Ducky.

“No, no, Jethro,” said Ducky.  “The Irish Setter has a reputation for being … clownish but a well-trained and disciplined adult is a wonderful dog.  Eager to work, sensitive, good natured, highly intelligent and, of course, elegant and handsome.”

“Well …” mused Gibbs.

“They are companionable.  Hard working.”

“Hmmm.”

“And I have never seen one and not been able to smile.  They have so much potential to be _happy_ dogs … they always cheer me up.  Indeed, I have some regret that Mother is so devoted to corgis but I fear that an Irish Setter would not be a suitable dog for me:  they do need a lot of exercise.  They are not exactly _lapdogs_ , you know.”

“That definitely fits,” muttered Gibbs.

Tony finished putting his shoes on and decided it was high time he interrupted the conversation although he would have liked to know what sort of dog Ducky considered himself to be.

NCISNCIS

Three and a half weeks later, the newly formed MCRT was at last officially on rotation.  Stan had returned full of excitement from his time on the Calvin Coolidge.  The truck had been checked, phones were charged and the _medical marvel_ had been cleared for full duty.

Word seemed to have got out to the criminal fraternity, however, that there was a new crime fighting team on the block and they were refraining from nefarious activity.  The new team was occupying itself with cold cases and trying not to jump too excitedly every time the phone rang.  The Secretary of the Navy had turned up on the day of launch but there had been nothing to see apart from the well-stocked truck.

“Going for coffee,” Gibbs announced as another day of inactivity ticked by.

Stan sighed; he was beginning to think that Agent Afloat might be a better career option.  “I’ll come too,” he announced.

“Bring me back one,” said Tony trying not to show his own frustration at still being deskbound.

“No case yet?” asked the Director coming down the stairs.

“No, Sir,” replied Tony.

“Where’s your team?”

“Gone for coffee.  Again!”

“Champing at the bit?”

“Yes.  I was thinking of organising a paper aeroplane competition,” said Tony.  “But I guess that’s not why you set up the MCRT.”

“Well, if we worked for the Air Force …” mused Morrow.

Tony laughed.  “Paper boats then?”

“Perhaps not,” said Morrow.  “How are …”

“I’m fine, Sir,” said Tony hastily.

“Good to know,” said the Director drily.  “But I was going to ask how the team is.”

“Oh, sorry, Sir,” said Tony.  “I’m so used to people asking me how I am … but, yes, the team … we’re good, I think.  Looking forward to getting a case.”

“And the working … relationships?”

Tony cast a quick look around but couldn’t see anyone within earshot.  “You mean with Agent Gibbs?”  The Director nodded.  “Better.  I think it helped spending time with him … found out that he’s not much one for words – using them or trusting them.  Which is tricky for me ‘cos I’m a big fan of the words.  But I think I’m getting better at reading him but I’m guessing that he’s not an open book with anyone.  We’re getting there, Sir.  We won’t let you down.”

“Good,” said the Director.  “And teams aren’t formed overnight.  Takes a while.”

“And on the plus side,” said Tony optimistically.  “Agent Gibbs took some convincing that I’m like an Irish Setter because his first thought was that they’re crazy dogs!”

“That’s … um … good,” said the Director doubtfully.  He was saved from saying anything more by Tony’s phone ringing.

NCISNCIS

One of Tony’s actions, of which Gibbs thoroughly approved, was the setting up of a _proper_ coffee machine in the breakroom.  The other agents had soon learned to dilute the Gibbs strength brew so that it met normal human standards and everyone was happy.  On this particular day, Stan and Gibbs found two other agents already at the coffee machine.

“Look who it is,” said Agent Shayne Fleming.  “The latest crime fighting duo!”

“Hi, Gibbs … Stan,” said his companion, Agent Lucas Bright.

Gibbs nodded briskly.

“So, when do you actually start doing some crime fighting, Agent Gibbs?” asked Fleming.

Rumour had it that Fleming had wanted a place on the MCRT but Morrow had refused to consider him as a member.

“When we get called out,” said Gibbs mildly.

“You’re ready to go then?” asked Fleming.

“Yes,” said Stan.  “Can’t wait.”

“Took long enough,” said Shayne.  “Is _Pretty Boy_ up to it now?”

“Pretty Boy?” asked Stan.

“Agent DiNozzio,” said Shayne.

Stan kept his temper and decided not to correct Shayne about Tony’s name.  “Yes, he’s fine now,” he said cheerfully.

“Guess it was some sort of justice,” said Shayne.

“What do you mean?” asked Stan.  Gibbs stayed silent and poured himself a mug of coffee.

“Stands to reason.  He must have screwed up the original investigation.  Anyone else would have known that girl was lying.  Pacci probably kicked him off the team because he knew that DiNozzio had messed it up.  He deserved to get infected.”

“No,” said Stan hotly, “That’s not …”  Gibbs caught his eye and minutely shook his head.

“And then the _poor thing_ had to go and get the plague,” sneered Shayne.  “Goes to show.”

“Goes to show what … _Shayne_?” asked Gibbs.  He said _Shayne_ in a drawl which Stan had already learned to distrust.

It seemed that Shayne had not learned the same lesson.  He didn’t know that that tone in Gibbs’ voice was to be feared.  “That it’s all show.  That he’s pretty on the outside but nothing on the inside.  He won’t last the month.”

“is that so?” said Gibbs in another drawl.

“Let’s go, Shayne,” said Lucas who was picking up on the dangers presented by Gibbs.

“Not yet,” said Fleming.  “Agent Gibbs and I are talking.  You can’t tell me that you think he’s leadership material?  He can talk the talk but can he walk the walk?”

“Let me guess,” said Gibbs.  “You could do a better job?”

“Sure,” said Shayne.  “Better than Anthony DiNotgotanything!”

“You’re a funny guy,” said Gibbs jovially.

Shayne stepped back a fraction as he belatedly began to realise that Gibbs was not agreeing with him.

“But,” continued Gibbs as he strode into Fleming’s personal space.  “If you ever diss my Boss again – who, by the way, has got more qualifications in his little finger than you’ve got in your whole fat body – then you’ll be sorry.  Very sorry.  Are we clear?”

Shayne gulped as he finally remembered the stories he had heard about Gibbs.  “Yes.  Yes, Agent Gibbs.  We’re clear.”  He made towards the door but Gibbs called him back.

“You left your coffee behind,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter,” gabbled Shayne who just wanted to be away from Gibbs.

“Can’t waste coffee,” said Gibbs sternly.

“No … no, of course not,” said Shayne.  He hurried back and picked the coffee up.  Gibbs smiled grimly as some hot coffee splashed on Shayne’s hand.

“Need a towel?” Gibbs asked benignly.

“No, no, I’m fine,” insisted Shayne.  “T-t-thank you.”  He scampered out wiping his scalded hand on his trousers.

“Hey!  Watch out!” said Tony as Shayne nearly collided with him at the door.

“Sorry.  Sorry, Agent DiNozzo.  I mean, Sir,” said Shayne.

“What was that about?” asked Tony.

“Nothing,” said Gibbs blandly.

Tony looked suspiciously at Gibbs and Stan who both looked entirely too innocent and unconcerned.

“Come on,” he said.

“Come on?” asked Stan and Gibbs.

“Call came in from Air Force One.  Navy Commander carrying the football dropped dead.”

“Air Force One?” asked Stan.  “As in …”

“The President of the United States,” said Tony.  “We’re up.  Let’s go, gentlemen!”

“On your six … Boss,” said Gibbs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end, at last! 
> 
> I don’t have any plans at the moment to continue in this version of NCIS but thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in the story.
> 
> In the season 6 episode Knockout Gibbs talks of the merits of pit bulls in a conversation with Leon Vance – I think we are meant to believe that Gibbs identifies with them so I transplanted that to this story.
> 
> And thanks to Cynthia Vasko for the suggestion that Tony would be like an Irish Setter – which made total sense once I googled the breed.


End file.
